


All Of Your Pieces

by indigo_lagoon



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, College Student Ian Gallagher, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gallavich, Hard of Hearing, M/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_lagoon/pseuds/indigo_lagoon
Summary: "He would recognize those raven black hair and crystal-blue eyes anywhere".Ian Gallagher is a young and hard-working law student who’s slowly moving up in the world of success. When the young man starts to crawl out of the darkest and deepest valley he’s been thrown in — a depressive episode — he sees someone from the past walk down the street of the neighborhood he’s living in. It is Mickey Milkovich, a boy Ian used to love. But there’s something changed about Mickey, he’s different, and Ian has to figure out the cape of the mystery that’s wrapped around the most beautiful man Ian had ever seen
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the lyric of a song "Pieces" by Andrew Belle. (love this song, highly recommend to listen)
> 
> As the story progresses, I will add more tags. Kinda don't want to spoil it for now. ;D
> 
> Disclaimer for the chapter: mentions of depression and thoughts of suicide.

_“No, Ian,” yelled Mickey, his voice loud and hands shaking from the anger, “I don’t fucking need you! I don’t need you nor your fuckin’ help.”_

_Ian sprinted behind the shorter man, trying to get the hold of his hand to stop him from running. Ian spun Mickey around, his shirt was soaking wet under Ian’s fingertips from the pouring rain outside._

_“Mickey, please, stop,” he begged the other man, looking deeply into the most marvelous ocean-blue eyes he had ever seen. Ian could see panic and hopelessness gleaming in Mickey’s wide gaze, “We can do this. I’m not gonna leave your side, Mick. Ever. I will be there for you and we’ll deal with it. Together,” prayed Ian, his voice trembling. Ian felt how tight his throat was, a lump of fear stuck in it, he was so close to breaking down and crying. Ian just couldn’t let Mickey walk away, not right now when they both needed each other the most, “Please, Mick. Don’t do this…”_

_Mickey yanked his arm, hard, almost losing the balance on his feet, to break the connection with Ian. Not feeling Mickey’s touch anymore, Ian gasped for air, it was like Mickey was the oxygen that kept Ian alive. Mickey stared into the taller man’s eyes. Ian could see how watery they got with every passing moment. Mickey bit his lip bitterly to hide the tears from sliding down the cheek._

_“Just leave me alone, Ian,” cried out the older man, “I don’t want you to deal with my shit! I’ve been alone my whole fuckin’ life and I’ve done great. Just… fuck off.”_

_And as the last words fell out of his boyfriend’s mouth, Mickey turned around on his heels and hurried into the darkness, leaving Ian alone. All by himself._

_Ian was standing in front of the clinic, strangers running around him like black ants, busy with their own lives and dealing with their own losses. His eyes were glued on Mickey’s strong back Ian loved to caress, feeling Mickey’s skin break into millions of goosebumps and shiver under the hot touch, watching him walk away till the fog hugged around his beautiful silhouette, making him disappear into the cold night._

_The rain kept pouring down from the cloudy sky. He felt how weak his knees got and the younger man slid down, knees hitting the muddy pavement, leaving dark circles on his jeans and not caring how miserable he looked at the moment. Ian’s heart ached in unbearable pain under his tight chest._

_Ian looked up and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air filling his lungs, the storm soaked his red hair, making the loose strands of hair fall over his forehead. The man felt how rain droplets hit his face, mixed together with salty tears falling off the long eyelashes, and flowed down the neck under his shirt, leaving a sorrowful trail behind, burning deep into Ian’s soft skin._

_Mickey was gone…_

-Six months before-

That was the lowest point of Ian’s life. For the very first time in his twenty-four years breathing and living on the ground of the Earth, for the past weeks or so, Ian wasn’t able to get out of his queen-sized bed. The man lied on his left side, aching in stiff pain from not moving, dirty sheets, not changed in days, crumbled around his limp body. A white t-shirt, soaking in layers and layers of unwashed sweat, stuck to his broad back. His mind was fighting a war against monsters and demons, telling Ian how useless he was. How stupid he was and how nobody wanted to be around him. _He was unlovable_. And no one was by his side to care.

All the dark voices crawled over and over his head like a powerful tsunami wave crashing onshore and destroying everything on its way, leaving a mess behind. Ian wanted to end the suffering, he was drained to keep fighting but he was too exhausted to pull himself out of heavy blankets.

Ian was having a depressive episode, caused by the mental health disease - bipolar disorder. Even though Ian had experienced those terrible moments a few times before; this time it was different. More dangerous. For the past two years, all his medications for his bipolar were balanced perfectly, even though it took a while for his psychiatrist to find the right dosage of drugs his body accepted; Ian felt normal. Like every other ordinary person felt. Until one day, of course, all systems built by hard work and tears, tumbled down the rocky mountain into a deep, narrow gorge, sucking the young man into a dark hole of hopelessness…

Ian was feeling great before crashing into the wall of suffering. The young man was studying at one of the most prestigious Law schools of Chicago; a university that worked with the brightest minds and most talented new lawyers-to-be. When Ian was just a child, around nine or ten, he loved to watch law and crime TV shows after finishing his homework of the day and washing the dishes after lunch, dealing with rich, corrupted businessmen, and investigating crimes that involved murders and dead bodies being pulled out of the lakes. He wanted to become one of them - Ian dreamed about becoming a judge to yell out ‘Order! Order!’ in the courtroom full of people and sending the bad guys to the jail to rot behind the metal bars.

Despite the young age, Ian did researches on his own during the weekends whenever his younger siblings stopped nagging him to play with dolls or G.I. Joe action figures, digging through the Internet, finding all the information about how to become a lawyer, where they learn and what they do, what kind of cases they solve, even how much money they earn. _A lo_ t thought Ian, _he could buy delicious dinners at any restaurant in the city for his family._ The little ginger put a lot of effort into his elementary school homework, studying for hours and hours at the tiny desk in his room he shared with Lip and Carl and reading books and notes he had carefully taken in classes before tests or exams to score the perfect grade. He wanted to be on top of his class, be the best student in the school. Ian wanted to be a judge after all.

As Ian grew up and got older, more responsibilities crawled on his shoulder. When Ian was a teenager, puberty making his face glow in unattractive acne, his oldest sister Fiona, told him to get the job to help out the family with money, contributing the ‘Squirrel found’ with his own sweats from a job at the local convenience store called ‘Kash n’ Grab’. The young boy also had to look after his younger siblings - Debbie, Carl, and Liam - during the day when others were out doing adult things. And the beginning of love life… that was a completely different story. Ian’s sexuality had bloomed and awakened, itching the young boy to experience and find out things about his body, sending waves of pleasure through the veins. It drastically affected Ian’s time for studies. He had to spend long hours up at nights when other’s been long asleep, keeping up with the piles of reading materials and assignments.

And then, when Ian was seventeen, the year when everything changed, he got diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It _fucked_ up his whole life. Ian was sick with an untreatable mental health disease, that would stay with him every breathing hour. He couldn’t hate himself more. Ian was going through the manic episode, feeling energized and reckless, living on top of the world when the first symptoms had come alive. The teenager would spend the nights away at the club called White Swallow with his fake ID, dancing, drinking, and getting high and then go with random, old men back to their places, usually hotel rooms downtown, to fuck them hard, bareback, until he crushed for two hours and started the cycle again. And again…and again. During the manic state, Ian’s ability to learn increased off the chart, he was so productive. The boy could come up with poetic poems for his English literature class about how beautiful and unproblematic life was, reading them emotionally in front of his classmates and teacher. He could write essays in History about the Cold War or the Great Depression in the blink of an eye. He even asked teachers for extra tasks to increase his GPA, to look better on his college application he was already starting to work on. Little did he know, Ian was a walking time bomb…

… the fall set Ian back. He missed high school for a month, because of his severe first depressive episode. Ian lost the meaning of life, thinking he would never achieve his deepest dreams. His textbooks were covered in a thick layer of dust from not touching. All the missed assignments his brother Lip brought for him piled up on the desk into a tall paper tower. Thankfully, Fiona’s maternal instinct felt something was seriously wrong with her little brother and practically dragged Ian out of his room to the doctor at the local clinic for the check-up. _Bipolar,_ the doctor said.

But as they say, those who work hard and never stop the grind even if life throws shitty jokes on you and laughs in your face, good things eventually do happen. Ian graduated the high school with a 4.5 GPA, meaning he got a full-ride scholarship for his studies at college. The young man got accepted for the undergraduate major, choosing to study political science. It would help him to increase his chance to get into the Law school of his dreams in the near future.

And this is where Ian is now. A young aspiring lawyer-to-be. He fell in love with the family law. It was the subject he gave all his heart to. Ian wants to help out families that are struggling, he wants to help little kids to win the fights of custody to be finally taken into a loving and caring family. It reminds him of his own life back on the Southside. Ian feels this pull inside him, which makes him want to make someone’s life a little bit better by helping. This is his main goal, this is what thrives him to work more and sleep less - the generosity of his heart.

When Ian was studying family law in university last semester, he was at the top of the class. Scoring a hundred percent on every test. _Obviously_. His professor Mr. Delacruz, a man Ian dreamed to become, spotted the red-head in the sea of students and saw the potential in him. He saw a talent. A good heart. An an attitude. One day, after two hours long lecture, on an atypically hot autumn day, about alimony and settlements, the professor called Ian to his office for a private word, away from envious ears. The old man offered the young lawyer a job at his private law firm, which was oriented in dealing with cases in family law, of course. Ian was jumping in excitement, feeling so proud of himself, his mind screaming- - But Ian smiled softly and professionally shook his professor’s strong hand in agreement. That night Ian allowed himself to celebrate by having one beer. Just one.

Finally, Ian was moving up in his life. It was the first step of a lifelong journey - the first step on the rough path, leading up the mountain of career to become a well-known, successful and respectable lawyer…

This time, when the episode struck, it was Lip who found Ian locked in his room, wrapped up in a blanket, curtains closed, not letting sunlight go through to fill the room with lively light; away from the rest of the world. Lip called his brother to ask about his day at work and tell Ian about Fred puking all over his father, but no one answered. He called once. Called twice. And he knew his brother was sick, because Ian always keeps his phone with him, ready to answer, ready to jump in a new opportunity.

Now, two weeks later, Ian is laying in his bed and waiting. Waiting for his re-adjusted meds to kick in and start working to bring him back to the mundane world. The worst part of this episode was that he had to ask to take the semester off the university because he just couldn’t keep up with the work and he didn’t dare to get expelled for skipping classes and not submitting assignments on time. It meant he was one semester back. One semester wasted. But this time Ian’s mental health and well-being were more important than his academics and career.

Mr. Delacruz, who Ian was working for, kindly allowed Ian to take the personal time off as long as he needed to get back on line. The professor promised him his place at the firm will wait for him. The old man also told Ian if he ever wanted to talk, he would help him as much as he could. What Ian had heard about his professor was that he had lost his beloved wife to a mental illness. 

As the days kept passing by, Ian felt how stronger his body became. It was a sign his meds were back on the right track. Yeah, his mind still was dull and empty, an annoying voice of self-doubt quietly buzzed in the furthermost corner of his mind. But Ian got out of the cranky bed and was able to change into clean clothes. He even damped a washcloth to clean off the dead cells of skin on his neck and armpits. The boy walked around his silent apartment in snail-pace and looked out of the window, seeing people walking and running down the street and cars passing by. The life kept going on, even when it had stopped for him.

For the first time in days, Ian was laying on his right side, one arm behind the head, resting on a yellow pillow, on the couch in his living room. Ian’s window was open, letting in the fresh air, he could smell the beginning of spring; his favorite season was almost here. Ian thought it would feel nice to change the scenery, he was sick of the four-wall cage called his bedroom. The man took his phone to check what he had missed. _Shit_. There were a ton of missed phone calls and text messages from his siblings, asking how he feels and if he needs anything. There were e-mails from his fellow co-workers sending him love and wishing they could meet sooner. A plain smile pulled on Ian’s lips.

But what caught Ian’s eye, was how little, almost none, text messages he had gotten from his current boyfriend Isaac; one missed call and one unread message. 

Yes, Ian had a boyfriend. They both met in Tort class in October. The guy was sitting next to him during one lecture. Ian couldn’t focus nor stop sneaking glances sideways that day; the guy was hot. Isaac had a slightly darker skin tone, which glowed every time the sun shone on him. His hair was warm dark brown with creamy highlights, thick and longer than Ian’s, medium length, but not too long. Some brown strands were naturally curled, that fell down his amber-brown eyes and insanely long eyelashes. Issac was tall, the same height as Ian’s, maybe a tiny inch longer. His body was muscular; his arms and legs perfectly curved. 

Ian had to take all the courage in his tiny finger to ask the guy out for a coffee after the lecture. They clicked instantly. The conversation was flowing naturally. They laughed and smiled. Chemistry striking between them. 

They got hot and heavy fast. It didn’t take more than five days to have Issac back in Ian’s apartment and in his bed. It was amazing. Ian had incredible sex again; something he hadn’t felt in the longest time. The man was swimming through clouds of pleasure. Isaac knew how to worn Ian out, leaving him with shaky legs. 

Things were perfect, until, well, until they weren’t.

When the highs of lust slowly drifted away, the rose-colored glasses slid off the bridge of Ian’s nose. Issac’s true colors started to show off. Isaac was a mean and unkind North Sider, coming from a wealthy family that could afford everything Ian had ever dreamed of. He was becoming jealous of Ian’s success. He couldn’t be happy for or with him. He started to see Ian as his competitor not as his loving boyfriend. They even got into a scandalous fight once he heard Ian got a job offer from Mr. Delacruz. _It was hell_.

Ian caught himself a lot thinking about dumping Issac. He didn’t need a man like that in his life - someone who didn’t love Ian back as much as he loved Issac. Ian knew he was better without him. Ian knew he deserved more than just sex. But then Ian’s bipolar episode got in his way, burning his plan into ashes.

As much as Ian didn’t want to call Issac, he had to, he still was his boyfriend after all. He pressed on his name and placed his phone to his ear, listening to the ringing sound. It rang. And rang. Ian was about to end the dial when he heard a statistic buzz. He knew Isaac had picked up, but no voice came through.

“Hey,”

“ _Where the hell you’ve been, Ian?_ ”

Ian was taken aback by the harsh tone of the voice.

“Well, hello to you, too, Ian,” Ian replied sarcastically. 

“ _Quit joking around and tell me why you couldn’t pick up your goddamn phone!_ ”

“I told you I was sick,” started Ian, his voice getting louder with anger, “Still am.”

“ _With what? Your depression_ ,” Issac chuckled, “ _That’s not a real illness, it’s all in your head_.”

That’s it.

“Are you a moron?” asked Ian, he just wanted to say hello, but now Issac was yelling at him for something Ian had zero control over, “You know I’m fucking bipolar!”

“ _We all get a little sad sometimes, it’s normal_ ,” stated the man on the other side of the line, his tone spiteful, “ _Just stop whining around like a girl and get moving. I’m stressing my ass out studying for the test in Crime while Ian Gallagher is out there doing God knows what_!”

Ian wanted to scream.

“ _Other people work hard, spend sleepless nights to study and still fail_ ,” continued the other man, “ _But you_ ,” Issac spit like venom, “ _You keep acting like a bitch, crying and pretending to not be able to get out of bed for days so people would feel sorry for you and give you perfect grades and a job you didn’t deserve, by the way_!”

Ian was speechless. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Issac’s voice slowed down, “ _Do you, uh, want me to come over? I haven’t seen you in days, been feeling horny lately_ …”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now,” began Ian, “You just called me a bitch who’s seeking attention by, air quote, faking an illness, and now you want me to fuck you? You know what, Issac, go fuck yourself, asshole!”

Ian was too tired to fight. He just hung up, not letting that piece of shit open his mouth again. When Ian told Issac about his bipolar, Isaac just snorted at it like it was nothing serious. The other man didn’t believe him from the beginning. His boyfriend never truly cared about him.

His day was fucked up. Ian’s mood drowned back at the foot of the ocean. Just one phone call he shouldn’t have made, burst Ian’s bubble, thinking he was finally starting to feel good about himself again. Issac had planted a seed of doubt. Deep down at the bottom of his heart, Ian knew his stupid boyfriend was wrong. Noting Issac said was true. 

Ian grabbed his phone again, which was now laying on the floor beside the dusted glass coffee table in front of him. Ian had thrown it away in rage when he ended the call. This time Ian wanted to vent to Lip, who always helped his little brother to calm down. Ian needed Lip to stop him from feeling pathetic.

**(4:21 PM) Ian:** Hey, Lip? Can you talk?

Ian knew Lip could be at work this time; the bike shop his friend Brad owned. It could take some time for him to answer, but there was no need to rush for Ian.

**(4:22 PM) Lip:** hey look who’s back from death. everything ok?

**(4:22 PM) Ian:** Shut up. Could you maybe come over later? Been feeling lonely lately.

**(4:23 PM) Lip:** no shit man! sure, just left the shop. be there in an hour yeah?

**(4:23 PM) Ian:** Okay. Thanks.

The ginger ordered a salami pizza and a bottle of beer for his brother because there was no food in Ian’s fridge left; Ian hadn’t gone grocery shopping for weeks now. He thought Lip must be hungry from an exhausting day at the job, so he decided to be a sympathetic brother and treat him with a meal. The younger man still wasn’t craving food yet. He ate half of a toast or a granola bar to avoid the worst side effect he could have from the prescribed medications - diarrhea. His stomach couldn’t face Ian munching greasy, unhealthy food; it was too early. But soon. When Ian would feel his appetite return, the first thing he’d eat was pasta. Lots of creamy pasta. The thought of melted butter made Ian’s stomach gurgle in interest.

After forty minutes, Lip knocked on the door, letting Ian know he had arrived. Ian was excited to finally see his brother. The taller man opened the front door and the first thing he did before inviting Lip in, Ian threw his long hands around Lip’s shoulder and pulled him in for a tight hug. God, he missed the feeling of someone touching his body. He missed his family the most.

“Easy, killer,” wheezed Lip as they both were swaying from one foot to another. Ian was holding his brother so close to his wide chest, it hurt for Lip to breathe property.

“I missed you so much, bro,”

“Yeah, I missed you, too, Ian,” Ian clapped his palm twice between Lip’s shoulder blades before releasing him from his firm hold.

“Come in, there’s a pizza waitin’ for ya,”

“Shit, I’m fucking starving,” said Lip, pulling off his jacket, “Today was busy, didn’t have time for lunch. Some rich lady brought in an old bike she needed to fix ASAP.”

“Got any money?” asked Ian, freeing space on the brown leather couch by throwing his pillows on the ground before sitting down to open the beer.

“Oh, yeah,” replied Lip, the older man took a beer from Ian’s hand, “Planning to take Tami out for dinner tomorrow. We need some time, alone, away from Freddie.”

“Poor Freddie,” pouted Ian.

“Debbie agreed to babysit him,” chuckled the older man, “You shoulda seen how fucking excited Franny was to see her cousin.”

“God, I miss home,” whined Ian. He really missed the crazy dynamic of the Gallagher house.

“You should come home for a while,” said Lip, “There will always be room for you, you know that, right? Stay as long as you need.”

“I will. Promise,” as much as he liked the idea of staying in his old bedroom for a few nights, Ian still needed peace and quiet to fully recover.

The redhead switched on the flat-screen TV, which was mounted on the wall in front of him. He signed into his Netflix account to turn on a random reality show for background noise. 

“How are you, really?” asked Lip warmly as he took a slice of pizza and pulled it on a paper plate Ian had brought.

“Well,” sighed Ian and put his socked feet on the coffee table, crossed at ankles, “I’m starting to feel better now, actually. Still drowsy and dull, but at least I finally got out the bed. That must be a fucking accomplishment.”

“Baby steps, Ian, baby steps,” said Lip, “You have no fuckin’ idea how scared I was when I found you in your bed like that, that day… That was definitely the lowest point you’ve had, man. Thank God you didn’t do anything we’d regret.”

“Yeah, me, too,” sobbed Ian quietly, “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize for shit you can’t control, okay?” said Lip seriously, “We will be there for you, all of us Gallaghers.”

Ian smiled weakly and rested his heavy head on his brother’s shoulder for some comfort. Lip brushed the younger man’s hair playfully. 

“Is there something else you wanted to talk about?” asked Lip after a moment of comfortable silence.

Ian didn’t want to bring back the sour memories from earlier, but sharing it with Lip would ease Ian’s tense shoulders: “I called Issac before I texted you.”

“And?”

“That piece of shit yelled at me, called me fake and…and a drama queen who couldn’t control their sad feelings. He just told me to shake it off and move one.”

“That motherfucker,” sworn Lip under the breath.

“But guess what?” asked Ian, “He then asked me if I could fuck him, like nothing he fuckin’ said seconds ago mattered to me.”

“You know, I’ve always hated that fucking North Side crap.”

Ian let out a genuine laugh: “I know. I do, too,”

Both siblings sat on the couch till the Sun went down the horizon over the landscape of Chicago and it was dark in the room, the only light was illuminated by the bright flashing lights of the TV. Lip told lighthearted stories about Freddie and other Gallaghers. He told about a weird dinner with Tami’s parents. Ian listened and smiled. For the first time in a very long time, the man finally started to come back to his own body. It was true, the loving hearts and tender words from family cured every headache.

— — —

It was officially the first day of spring. Ian loved it. The man loved how days got longer and warmer. He loved how first spring flowers like snowdrops bloomed in parks, sneaking their white heads toward the daylight. He loved how cold snow melted under the beams of the sun, creating little brooks that ran down the street. Nature was waking up from the long slumber of the winter.

And so was Ian.

The beginning of spring was also the start of Ian’s new life. The man decided to clean his apartment, to make all the melancholy thoughts disappear. Ian did the laundry, which was piling on the tiled floor in the bathroom. He wiped away the dust from the surfaces of the furniture to clean the air. He washed windows to let in the sun rays into the rooms to fill them with lively energy. The man even walked to the grocery store downstairs to fill the fridge with snacks and drinks. Ian was starting to feel like the old self.

One day, Ian even decided to go outside for an easy jog in the neighborhood to get his endorphins pulsing through veins. He was so out of shape. After running around the corner of the building, Ian’s cheeks were bright pink and his lungs screaming for oxygen. The man decided to take it slow, his body needed to re-adjust to changes in his activities, so Ian just kept walking. He was walking and studied the surrounding, trying to find out what had been shifted.

Ian was leisurely walking down the Bowen Avenue, deep in his own thoughts, when his green eyes glimpsed over a familiar figure. It was a man wearing baggy jeans and a dark hoodie. He was coming towards Ian, hands tucked into pockets, eyes looking down on his feet. When they got closer, only a few steps parting them, Ian could clearly see who it was. He would recognize those raven black hair and crystal-blue anywhere. 

He didn’t see Ian.

The man kept walking away.

Ian abruptly stopped, making people behind him run into his back and murmur unfriendly under their breaths. The ginger man spun around, eyes scanning the street to see where the other man had gone. He kept going. Straight down the street.

Ian took a deep breath. _All or nothing_.

“Mickey!” he loudly yelled out the other man’s name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

“ _Mickey!_ ”

The black-haired man Ian was calling for, on a street full of walking pedestrians deep in their own thoughts, kept going, his head didn’t even flinch in slight movement; blending into the sea of strangers.

_Fuck_. Ian sighed loudly, he buried his long fingers in the red hair and pulled a chunk of it painfully. Ian felt a sharp tingle run down the neck, trying to shake off the frustration building inside him.

Mickey probably didn’t hear Ian calling his name, that’s what Ian told himself to soothe the agitation — it was noisy outside. Cars were driving past the street and honking at other drivers who fell asleep at the green light on the intersection, groups of friends were talking and laughing cheerfully about embarrassing moments they saw earlier on the hallway of school during lunch break. 

But they were so close, thought Ian, their shoulders almost, _almost_ , brushed together. The men were only two feet apart. Two fucking feet parting them from bumping into each other. Ian would give anything away just to rewind back the last seconds of his life to catch Mickey’s arm and stop him from disappearing. 

There were so many unanswered questions racing around in the speed of lightning on Ian’s brain. Why was Mickey here; in the neighborhood, Ian was currently owning his one-bedroom apartment? Why were Mickey’s most beautiful eyes staring down, counting every step he took, or watching how his dressed feet kicked tiny rocks on the concrete pavement when instead he should look up and show the world how unique he was?

Ian wasn’t thinking. His brain had stopped function properly. Every time he blinked, he only saw Mickey behind the closed freckled eyelids. Memories from the past arising up from the water, spilling over the surface uncontrollably. It’s been around a decade since Ian had last seen the boy he used to secretly dream of every night he drifted off to sleep. 

The younger man was brought on a path of reminiscence that led back to the year when Ian was only fourteen years old and saw Mickey for the very first time.

Mickey Milkovich was trouble for Ian Gallagher. The guy, who was in the same grade as Ian’s older brother Lip, couldn’t leave the red-head alone. Mickey, the biggest little thug of the South Side, whose pale skin was always covered in dirt and his short, raven black hair gelled up in sharp spikes, was on Ian’s ass every time he passed him in hallways or even on streets back in the Canaryville, teasingly calling Ian a weird, alien-looking carrot top.

It wasn’t like Ian was terrified of him like other friends of his was — whenever they saw Mickey moving closer in their direction, Ian’s childhood friends would bolt away just to avoid the trouble because the Milkovich thug really didn’t need a sincere reason to punch them with a knee in groins — the younger boy would rather feel electric strikes of interest spark deep down in his guts. Ian thought Mickey was uniquely beautiful. He could see the warm heart and soft smile hidden behind the layers of tough act and mud covering his face. Mickey made Ian’s cheeks blush in rose pink color, his heartbeat fasten, making hot blood pulse through the veins, and his dick a bit harder. 

The young Ian Gallagher kept all the smutty images about Mickey locked away in the darkest ambush in his brain, scared someone could expose them. If a single soul would see those naughty pictures that helped the ginger relieve his horniness caused by growth hormones, then Ian was a dead man. Especially if it was Mickey; then Ian would need to pack his shit and become a fugitive, and hide in a cave at the farthest corner of Mexico. _Fuck_ , Ian had a sickly deep crush on the worst person ever.

Until one day, of course, things changed…

It was a freezing and snowy day in late February when Ian’s class was combined together with his crush’s class at the Gym. Budget cuts said the teacher. The kids were assigned to play dodge ball for the ending of the class; Ian’s favorite part after tiring sets of runs around the gym and jumping over obstacles such as ‘lava’ or ‘water’. The younger students against the older ones. That wasn’t fair and it turned into a nightmare the second teacher blew the shrill whistle, announcing the beginning of the first match. The older team was stronger and quicker; they had Mickey. The red bouncy ball hit kids' faces, leaving nasty marks all over the soft skins. Whenever the thug got control of the ball, he aimed for the weaker players — including Ian because Mickey was onto his ass all the time — kids who were awkwardly circling on the ground trying, but unsuccessfully avoiding the throw. Ian couldn’t wait for the suffering to end.

Changing into dry clothes after never-ending running felt amazing; the soft material cooling of the sweaty and burning skin. 

With the corner of the green eye, Ian spotted Mickey. The dark-haired boy was five lockers to the right from him, pulling off the soaking wet black t-shirt with kinda offensive slogans written on its front. Ian’s stare unconsciously slid over the naked chest of his crush. It was the first time he had seen Mickey naked, well, half-naked. He was perfect and extremely hot, though the younger boy. Ian could see how much lighter his body hair was, covering Mickey’s skin like the soft fur of a peach. The older guy’s abs were naturally toned, he could see thicker muscles under Mickey’s pale stomach. And there was a cute tummy he dreamed to litter in tiny kisses. Ian’s eyes slowly and deliberately drifted lower, reaching his pelvic area. The ginger’s mouth watered from the view — a faint path of black hair led down the delicate skin and disappeared under the waistbands of gym shorts — Mickey’s soft happy trail. 

Ian quickly turned away and closed his eyes, took a deep breath of stale air to calm down the nerves; he felt a tickle in the lower stomach. _Damn it_. Ian was getting hard while Mickey was right beside him. He was fucked. 

The boy’s stare returned back to the guy next to him, who was currently stepping out his shorts. Mickey stood in the middle of the locker room chest naked and in boxers. Ian quickly glanced around to find another alive person in the room. But no other students were dressing up. It was just Ian and Mickey. Alone. Half naked. 

Ian dared to glide one more look at Mickey’s way before turning his back on his crush to dress up and leave as quickly as Ian could. He was choking. His racing heartbeat was going to kill him.

But then something else caught Ian’s attention when his gaze moved up from Mickey’s hairy legs. A visible bulge in Mickey’s blue boxer shorts. The light cotton popped up into a tent.

“The fuck you lookin’ at, alien?” Mickey asked in a harsh tone, his blue eyes drilling into Ian’s flushed face.

“Uh…” the ability to speak had left the boy’s heigh. Ian’s stare slid down Mickey’s frame back to his hard-on. 

_Biiig mistake._

The very next moment Mickey was standing in front of Ian. He slammed the taller guy against the cold locker, sending shivers down the spine. Mickey’s arm was pressed on Ian’s throat, making him gasp in pain. Their heaving chests pressed together. Ian saw panic in Mickey’s wide eyes.

“If you ever open up your fuckin’ mouth about what you saw,” breathed heavily the older man, “I’ll kill you with my own hands. Understood?”

Ian shook his head fast, showing Mickey his message was delivered loud and clear.

“Good,” replied Mickey as he eased the pressure on Ian’s neck. 

But the man wasn’t moving away. He stood still, breath hitching up like he just ran a marathon. Ian stared into Mickey’s eyes, waiting for him to go. But he never did. Ian felt how close their bodies were, they were breathing the same air coming out of the parted lips. The boys were wrapped into a bubble of tingling current. And then Ian felt something poking into his upper tight. It was Mickey’s hard cock pressed against his soft skin.

Mickey looked into Ian’s green eyes, which were just as scared as Ian’s. But then Ian felt how the hand that was wrapped around his throat slowly slid down Ian’s chest, his muscled stomach, burning a red trail of fingertips into the pale skin; Mickey’s fingers were brushing against soft ginger hairs on his navel, tickling the sensitive spot. The hand painfully lowered down till it reached Ian’s shorts. Ian's mind went black. A deep moan slipped out of Ian’s pink lips, an unfamiliar sound he had never thought his body could melodize. He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, but Mickey chuckled in amusement, liking the animalistic noises he was bringing out of Ian’s throat. The dark-haired guy slid his moist palm into Ian’s underwear and grabbed his rock hard dick. 

No one had touched Ian like that before. Mickey was the first guy who jerked Ian off. And it felt indescribably amazing. Ian was flying in ecstasy, feeling Mickey’s rough palm on the most sensitive part of his body. Mickey turned him on like his own hand could never. Things heated up quickly. Mickey’s delicate lips were brushing over the silky skin on Ian’s necks, whispering soft moans into his ear. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered. 

Ian was a mess. He couldn’t think for a moment. Ian’s wildest dreams were coming alive.

And Ian did what Mickey asked for. Ian fucked Mickey hard against his locker. The younger boy didn’t know a single thing about being together with another person in such a vulnerable way but watching porn had helped him to understand how to move, where to put his awkward hands, and some techniques that promised to bring the best waves of pleasure in another person.

Mickey was shaking under Ian’s touch, begging for more.

Ian lost his virginity to the guy of his dreams.

The two of them met for occasional fucks at random places during the dark nights, when no one was around to witness them together. It was astonishing. Ian was happy; even his siblings saw how glowing he was. He got to explore his body with a boy he liked the most. 

One night, when Ian and Mickey had decided to meet at the dugouts — their favorite place to fuck— Mickey was late. He never missed a minute of their “date”. But Ian kept waiting. He waited for ten minutes, then for thirty when an hour had already passed. He was worried about Mickey; something was definitely wrong. 

Then Ian caught a shadow stumping across the field. It was Mickey; a hood of a jacket pulled over his forehead, it was like he was trying to hide his face. Ian sprinted to the boy he liked. And when he was close enough, Ian saw his face, making his chest squeeze into a tight aching pain. Mickey’s gorgeous face was covered in ugly scars. His left eye was black, someone had thrown a bitter fist into it. His plump lips were swollen from the cut. Blood dried under his noise.

Ian’s hand reached up to caress his face, maybe try to take away the misery, but Mickey dodged the touch, slapping Ian’s hand away.

“What happened to you?”

“It none of your fuckin’ business, Gallagher,” barked Mickey, his eyes looking anywhere but at Ian. He was avoiding him.

“Mickey, talk to me,” begged Ian, his heart breaking like glass into a million tiny pieces.

“We’re done,” stated the shorter guy, “I don’t want to see your fuckin’ face ever again!”

Ian took a step back, staring at him like wounded prey.

“What changed?” Ian’s voice was shaking.

“Everything,” yelled Mickey, tears threatening to break out, “You fucked up my life! And I want you gone, Gallagher. This was a fuckin’ mistake!”

Ian never thought seeing someone you care for walking away would hurt this much…

And that was the last time Ian had seen Mickey. Until today. Mickey was Ian’s first love who never left his heart; he owned a piece of it, always beating together. With time it got easier, not better, but _easier_. Mickey was his past who always stayed by Ian’s side; wherever he went, Mickey was with him. Always.

Ian didn’t understand how he got back to his apartment. But there he was, standing in the front of the bathroom’s mirror, staring back at the reflection of his naked chest, covered in the dust of ginger hair. A shower always was a cure for Ian to gain back the sense of comfort. The steams of boiling water, filling up the lungs, helped to fight against overwhelming feelings. The man let the water droplets rain over his face to bring him back from the hurtful past.

The man, a white towel wrapped around his waist, wet ginger hair slicked back, dug through the messy wardrobe in the tiny walk-in closet he had in his bedroom to find a Nike gym bag. He decided to go home for a day before he had to head back to the work at the law firm. Ian packed a pair of clean underwear, folded a few T-shirts, and put in the plastic bottles of the medication he took twice a day. He couldn’t be more excited to see all his family members in one place together - at the Gallagher house, a place that was Ian’s true home no matter where else he was settled. 

— — —

“Ian!”

The young man was welcomed by his favorite little niece. Franny tipped on her tiny feet across the living room, when her eyes landed on her uncle coming in from the front door of the house, leaving the cartoon she was watching behind her back, completely forgotten.

Ian dropped his gym bag on the ground, kneed down, and took the fragile girl into his loving arms, giving her a tight hug, praying not to crush her. Franny giggled when Ian’s breath tickled the back of her neck. Ian loved her so much. He was so glad to see his family again; he felt how tears formed in the inner corner of the eye.

“Are you crying, Ian,” asked the girl, putting her tiny chill hands on both sides of Ian’s stubbled jaw, her _r_ ’s sounding more like ‘w’.

“No, Fran,” replied the taller ginger, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “I’m just really happy to see you!” he put his niece down, she was wearing a pair of pink leggings with tiny white hearts on them and a washed-out purple long-sleeved shirt, Ian could see colorful stains on the sleeves, left by the markers when she was working on her beloved animal coloring book, “Look at you, you’ve got so big.”

“I’m a big girl now,”

“Yes, you are, Franny,” agreed Ian, an affectionate smile played on his lips. Thought about having a kid or two himself with someone he loved endlessly, secretly sneaked into his mind, making his heart go soft.

“Look who finally came home,” called Debbie, Franny’s mother, coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Debs,” Ian pulled her sister into a hug as well, his nose brushing against her auburn red hair, smelling the vague scent of strawberries.

“You look good,” said Debbie, checking out her brother.

“Yeah, thanks,”

“Lip said you’re feeling better now,”

“I am,” answered Ian, “I’ll be off to the work soon.”

“Oh yeah?” exclaimed Debbie, giving a hand to her daughter’s hand, “That’s really good.”

Hummed Ian, picking up his bag from the ground: “Where is everyone else?”

“Carl’s at work, won’t be home till the evening. Lip’s at his place, he’s too busy renovating the house. Liam’s at the friends. And Frank, well, probably sleeping at the bus station.”

Ian let out a genuine laugh: “Of course.”

“Have you called Fiona?” asked his little sister as they all walked to the kitchen where Debbie set up the cup of coffee for Ian.

“Shit-“

“Language,” warned Debbie, eyes darting at Franny who sat next to Ian at the wooded dining table, short legs swinging back and forth.

“Uh, sorry,” apologized the older man, “I totally forgot. How is she?”

“Well,” began the young woman, pouring in the boiling hot water in the mug, “She’d forgot how exhausting it is to wake up every hour to feed the baby. It’s been some time since Liam was a baby.”

Fiona got married to Jimmy almost a year ago when their first baby was born. A baby boy named Finn. It was crazy how after all those years apart, Fiona and Jimmy-Steve met and decided to try dating again. Finally, Jimmy got his degree in medicine and became a doctor like he always wanted. The couple moved outside of Chicago to a smaller city outside the borders of state Illinois, only a few hours of drive away - Madison. Ian had seen the beautiful baby boy, only through the screen of FaceTime or pictures she had sent in the family group chat; Finn had Fiona’s brown eyes and curly hair and Jimmy’s face shape. He wished he could meet his second nephew in real life. Soon, hopefully.

After drinking his coffee and discussing what had happened during Ian’s disappearance with Debbie, Ian climbed upstairs to his old bedroom. Nothing had changed. His tiny single-sized bed was laying there untouched. Old army posters still hanging on the neglected walls. Ian threw his bag on the bed and sat down on a navy blue star-printed blanket — those were his dearest covers — making it creak of Ian’s weight; Ian inhaled the scent of his childhood. Memories from the past, both happier and sadder ones, surrounded him.

Debbie had texted everyone, telling them that Ian was back home to bring the family together. Ian had helped her to prepare the dinner; he ran to the grocery shop to buy the all necessary ingredients for Debbie’s culinary masterpiece - spaghetti with meatballs. God, just thinking about a home-made meal made Ian’s stomach gurgle in hunger.

Ian’s other siblings in town come home when it was shortly past seven in the evening, They hugged each other, asking Ian if he’s feeling better now, with Ian kindly smiled and shook his head positively. And that’s how Ian’s most insane day ended. Everyone sat in the kitchen, eating delicious dishes and laughing together, enjoying each other’s company. But Ian’s mind wondered around when Carl was telling about his day at the police station. And every time his thoughts brought back the memories of Mickey…

The next morning, when Ian was wakened up early by kids getting ready to school; Ian definitely didn’t miss the loudness of the household, especially when the man liked to sleep in; he was sitting outside on the front steps, slowly dragging in the nicotine smokes of the cigarette. The bright spring sun shone over Ian’s faded skin, making it tingle with the warmth.

“Yo,” greeted Lip, coming outside to join his brother for the morning smoke, “Sleep well?”

“Fuck, no,” laughed Ian, “I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable my old bed was.”

“Yeah. It was weird not feeling Tami’s legs all over my body.”

A comfortable silence landed over the men, both of them enjoying the calm morning before the busy day.

“I saw someone yesterday,” admitted Ian.

“Who?”

“I think it was Mickey,” 

“The Milkovich one?” Lip knew about the history the men shared.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Ian punched his brother playfully on arm, “He walked past me down the street. But he, uh, didn’t see me.”

“Hm.”

“Have you, y’know, heard about him anything?” asked Ian curiously, maybe Lip could share something about Mickey’s life.

“I mean, he moved out of the Milkovich house a few years ago with Mandy and, uh, what was his name,” Lip thought for a second, snapping fingers in the air, “Oh, yeah, Iggy. One of many Milkovich brothers.”

“Why?”

“Well,” answered Lip, “Heard Terry got arrested.”

“Really?” Ian didn’t know that, “For what?”

“Does he really need a reason, I mean, fuck, he’s fucking Terry Milkovich.”

“I guess,” thought Ian, “Does it get something to do with Mickey, uh, moving aw-“

Lip’s phone rang loudly, stopping Ian from finishing the sentence.

“Hold up,” Lip said to Ian, before accepting the incoming call, “Yeah?”

Ian could hear a soft woman’s voice on the other end and a baby screaming uncontrollably.

“Shit, okay, I’m on my way,” replied Lip to his call, “That was Tami. Fred won’t stop crying because of the fucking fever.”

“Fuck, is he okay?”

“The little guy’s teething,” Lip answered proudly, which earned a soft smile from Ian. Freddie was growing up.

Back in the apartment, on the other end of the South Side, near the coast of Lake Michigan, Ian changed into a warm pair of his favorite grey sweatpants, fixed a bowl of Frosted Flake cereals, took the evening dosage of bipolar medication, and jumped on the couch in his living room, legs crossed under he butt. 

This is the last care-free evening for Ian before going back to the office. So Ian decided to do completely nothing. The man switched on Netflix to watch a random movie that flickered on the top of the screen. As much as Ian loved to do nothing, he missed the daily routine that kept him busy all day long; he needed to feel the aching pain of walking in uncomfortable shoes for hours because the feeling of diving into a bed, burying his freckled face into a pleasant pillow, made Ian complete. A strict routine that kept the young man moving and growing. It made Ian feel the power he had to control his life.

———

Ah, the feeling of stepping into an elevator that took Ian on the top floor of the building, the highest construction of Chicago that opened up the most scenic view across the breath-taking city skyline, brought quivers down the spine of elegantly dressed man. Ian straightened his back, chest pulling forward, making him look professional and very serious. A young and respectable man.

Ian took it sincerely to choose the working outfits for every workday. Today his body was covered with navy blue slim fit pants, that highlighted Ian’s muscular legs, making women, and even some men, turn around to double-check the goods, a white well-fitted button-down shirt with curled sleeves up to his elbows, making the hairy arms with ginger strands shine in golden when a ray of sun shone through gigantic windows. He was working at one of the most prestigious law firms of the state of Illinois, after all. Wealthy people were buzzing around the floors so he never knew when the right opportunity came. Ian was always ready.

The young lawyer’s job responsibilities were mostly helping out his patron, the real lawyer who protected the rights of their clients on courts; Ian sorted case documents, sometimes even joined for the interviews with assigned clients to talk through legal aspects of the case, and when Ian got indeed lucky, then he would accompany his patron for the court hearings, too. Those were the best days. Days that made Ian work harder to be like his patron.

As Ian slid down the expensive hallways to his work station, he met some of his co-workers, he actually liked to be around; they were really nice and understanding, with lovingly kind souls, not like some other people Ian had run into - arrogant and snobby, sitting on the throne, like kings ruling their kingdoms. 

“Welcome, back, buddy,” greeted Sue, an older woman, around thirty. This woman was Ian’s spirit animal, she always hyped him up whenever Ian was dealing with stressful assignments. Even once Sue paid for a round of drinks for their group of friends at the bar after winning a complicated adoption proceeding.

“Hey, Sue,” answered Ian, pulling his colleague into a friendly hug.

“We knew you were coming back today, so Eric and I got you somethin’.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Ian, he was intrigued by the surprise.

“Uh-huh, it’s on your desk. Let’s go,”

Ian missed his tiny work station; he always kept it clean and tidy, no clutters tossed around. As the man scanned around the desk, he saw some ‘get well soon’ cards and bars of chocolate on it. But what made Ian laugh out loud was the present Sue and his other friend Eric had got — a white mug with black letters painted on it, saying ‘hottest motherfucker’, and the mug was filled with home-baked tiny cookies shaped into different sizes of penises.

“Hi-larious, guys,” dragged Ian sarcastically, “But thanks. It’s sweet.”

“I know, right,” giggled Sue, it was definitely her idea, she was so proud of herself, “Anyway,” she took the white envelope, which was laying under the mug, “It’s from Mr. Delacruz.”

Ian opened it carefully, scared to tear up whatever was inside of it. A note. Written in cursive handwriting.

“ _I am glad you are back with us, Mr. Gallagher._

_When you get this note, please, find me in my office._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Delacruz."_

Ian lightly knocked on Mr. Delacruz's doors, after his secretary allowed Ian to see his boss, waiting for an invitation to come in.

“Come in,” called the older man on the other room.

The red-head strolled into the office, where Mr. Delacruz was sitting in front of his desk, full of piles of papers and photos of his family. Behind the man with brown hair with grey highlights around temples — the stress he had gone through, made him look much older — was an enormous window, filling the room with bright light from outside.

Ian sat on a beige bread buttoned armchair for visitors in front of his boss’s desk.

“Hello, Ian,” welcomed the man, “I hope you are feeling better now, are you?

“Yes, sir, thank you,”

“That’s great to hear. I was really worried about it. Supposing what had happened to my dear wife… I feel responsible for you, kid. Mental health can be a tricky bitch sometimes. One moment you are feeling normal, but the next… you lose someone you love the most,” Mr. Delacruz took a deep breath to stop his voice from trembling, “What I’m trying is that I’m here for you, kid. All the time. And when you feel like you need to talk to someone, I will listen to you, we will try to solve the problem together, okay?”

Ian felt how blurry the sight become because the tears were dangerously close to tumbling down the cheek. Instead of answering Ian chews on his bottom lip and shook the head.

“So,” Mr. Delacruz clapped his hands to wipe away the heavy fog that covered the room, “About your work schedule. I talked to Mr. Anderson, your patron, and he kindly allowed you to not work for him directly this week, so you will be working half-time only to get back on track,” explained Ian’s boss, “Your task for this week will consist of training the new guy. Hold up, I’ll call for him so I can introduce you to each other.”

Mr. Delacruz pulled out of the drawer his phone cellphone to call his secretary for the newbie. After almost two minutes of waiting another guy rushed through the office door. _Cute_ , thought Ian when his eyes landed on the new guy.

The older man stood up from his chair and Ian followed his movement: “Ian Gallagher this is Declan Ebben, Declan this is Ian, your trainer for the week.”

Ian shook Declan’s hand, his hold tight and professional; they exchanged brief hellos. 

“Alright then,” said the boss man, “Now that you have met each other, let’s get to work!”

The younger men waved good-bye to Mr. Delacruz for the day and walked back into the hallway that led to the working area.

“You can call me Declan,” broke the silence of the other guy, “I’m not kinda used to all the mister thing, makes me feel old.”

Ian giggled, he actually liked the formality: “Well, you better get used to it.”

The men shared a smile and looked at each eye for longer than necessary. As he thought before, Declan was a cute guy, but not his type. His type was short dark-haired men with the tough act and loving hearts…

“Anyway,” Ian cleared the throat, “As Mr. Delacruz told you, I’ll help you to get used to the surroundings of the firm, explain what you have to do and when to keep your mouth shut.”

Ian started the tour. He showed Declan his workstation, which was a few stations away from Ian’s. Then he explained to him the order how to sort out all cases and other documents. Next, their walk led to the conference rooms, where lawyers and clients would come together or other serious business meetings happened. As they were walking, Declan told Ian about himself a bit, but the truth is told, he didn’t really listen to him, because he didn’t care. 

They leisurely shuffled into the common area, where everyone would spend their lunch and talk to other colleagues. It was one of Ian’s favorite place to be; it hummed with pleasant energy. A lot of people were already there, taking the free spots at tables and bean couches.

“And this is where we relax or work, sometimes, when we want to change the scene from the boring working station,” explained Ian as he put his hands in pockets and swung back and forth on his feet.

“You’re actually a really great guide, Ian,” said Declan in a flirtatious tone, “Maybe, we could, uh, discuss other things over a drink later?”

“Well, look who’s finally back at work,” called a familiar voice from behind. It was Isaac. 

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

“Isaac, what brings you here,” asked Ian as politely as possible. Issac would never visit Ian at work, so he was really confused with the current situation.

“I work here, too,” said Isaac as he walked next to Ian and put a hand around his waist, showing the other guy in front of him that Ian was in a relationship.

“Uh,” he turned at Declan, this was getting personal, so he needed him gone, “Declan, would you be so nice and bring me a cup of black coffee, please?”

“Where can I get it?”

“In the kitchen,” said Ian, motioning his hand to show directions, “Across the room, turn left and you’ll see.”

“Uh-“

“I’m your boss, Declan,” said Ian loudly, “And when your boss tells you to bring a coffee, you bring the coffee. Go!”

With that, he finally got Declan to walk away.

Ian turned back at Issac, he took a step away, making his hand fall off his hip; Ian didn’t want to feel his touch, it made him sick: “Yeah, but why didn’t you tell me?” asked Ian, crossing arms on his chest, “I mean, this is kind of a big news.”

“Decided I could move up in the world, too. Took some time, but it worked, I guess?”

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

“While you were whining about being ‘sick’, I had a feeling you were lying to me so you could fuck other guys behind my back,” braked the other man, “So I slept with someone from here; put a good word for me, you know.”

Ian was speechless. His jaw dropped to the ground. He was going to puke.

“Did you just admit you fuckin’ cheated on me?”

“Like you didn’t,” scoffed Issac, “You were practically eye-fucking that prick in the middle of the room. I heard how you flirted with him! Don’t act like you’re the saint one.”

“No! I fucking didn’t, you asshole!” Ian was practically screaming, a few eyes were curiously watching them “I thought about taking my life away! You didn’t even think about visiting me when I needed you by my side the most! I-,” Ian took a deep breath, it’s not worth it, it’s not fucking worth to explain your feelings to someone who never gave a shit about you, “We’re done. We’re fuckin’ done! I don’t want to hear you anymore. And I definitely don’t want to see you anymore. So, get the fuck out of my life, you fucking fuck!”

Ian ran away from him. He didn’t want to see that selfish bastard’s face any second longer. He hated him so much. _Fuck_. Ian walked out of the common room to get away from the intrusive looks people gave him. Ian leaned against the wall and slowly slid down; he was sitting on the floor, knees pulled close to his chest. The man wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, no tears came. Instead, he started to laugh. He laughed like a maniac, not caring about people glaring weirdly at him. 

Ian did it. He was free. He was free from an emotionally abusive relationship…and he couldn't be happier.

“Ian,” Declan’s voice brought the man back to the planet Earth, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” answered Ian and slowly stood up, he wiped away the invisible dust from his height.

“Here’s your coffee, boss,” teased his new co-worker.

“Don’t want it anymore,”

“Where the hell do I put it?”

Ian looked at the confused man, he just shrugged and began to walk: “Figure it out. C’mon, let’s continue the tour.”

———

The first day of work finally was over for Ian. _What a day_. But it was a good day as awful as it might sound. Ian was heading to the station to wait for his L train to go home. _Home_. Ian couldn’t wait to flop onto the bed and just breathe for a moment.

The red-head was standing close to the rails, swaying his hips in slow, lazily motion. Ian checked the time on his watch on the wrist. He was earlier this time, the man had to wait for a few more minutes when the train would stop and take away. Usually, Ian was running late for the L, he would jump on the train at the last second before the door slammed close behind his back; sweaty and red from sprinting for four blocks. 

Someone moved by Ian’s side. It was another person waiting for the train. It wasn’t just any human being, it was his dark-haired man. Mickey was standing beside him.

Ian’s heart stopped beating. 

They were so close to each other. Their dressed shoulders softly bumping into each other’s bodies.

Mickey had changed. A lot. Now Ian could clearly see his side profile. He had aged like fine wine. The older man’s body had become thicker, more muscular; it like the man was spending a lot of time working out. Mickey was wearing a dirty-yellow bumper jacket with light, ripped denim jeans. He looked… hot. Perfect. Incredible. Ian burned the image of Mickey into his brain, so he could think about him forever. 

But there was something else that caught Ian’s attention. A small plastic thingy in his ear… a hearing aid? Ian wasn’t quite sure. _But why?_ Did something happen to him? Ian felt his lower lip quiver. Please, someone, tell him the man he longed to hold in his arms to keep him safe, was okay. 

_Fuck._

The ginger wanted to cry.

Mickey must have felt Ian staring at him from the side because his head moved and now their eyes were connected. 

Blue eyes looking into green ones. 

The time had stopped; it was just Mickey looking at Ian. Ian and Mickey. Alone in the world.

“Move, assholes,” a stranger from the back burst the trance Ian had slipped in. The train had arrived. _Holy shit_ , how long were they looking at each other like that?

Ian moved to get on the train. But Mickey still was frozen in place. Standing. Not moving. Not daring to breathe.

The younger man sat down, closing his eyes to calm down a bit. Memories with Mickey from the past flooded in, playing like a short movie over and over. Ian swore he could feel how Mickey’s skin felt against his chest; how the shorter man gasped in bliss when Ian brushed against his most sensitive spot inside. 

When Ian opened his eyes again, Mickey was standing in front of him, leaning against the window, arms crossed together. The man was checking Ian out secretly. The younger man blushed when he caught Mickey’s blue eyes on him. But Mickey didn’t look away; it was like he was afraid Ian could burst into ashes any moment and disappear forever.

_Now or never._

Ian stepped across the L to stand next to his crush; a crush that never left Ian’s beating heart.

“Hey, Mickey,”

Mickey didn’t answer, but he moved his head in a motion, saying ‘hi’ wordlessly. His eyes were watching Ian’s pink lips; he was trying to see if Ian was speaking or not. 

Nothing else came out of Ian. He was too anxious to talk to him. Fuck. Ian generally was a talkative person, it was easy for him to make the first move or keep the conversation flow naturally without awkward silences. But not this time. He was too fucking nervous. Millions of butterflies were flying in his tummy, making Ian feel sick.

When the L slowed down before coming to a complete standstill, reaching its stop to let out the passengers, Mickey was one of them; he was about to leave Ian alone. Again.

_No._ The universe has given him the second chance.

Ian’s hand jerked forward, his long fingers clutching around the soft fabric. Mickey looks at the connected arms; he was confused. Without speaking Ian followed him out. It wasn’t his station, he had few more stops ahead. _Whatever._ Mickey was more important. He’ll get home somehow. 

“You’ve changed,” said Ian, lame, their hands still touching together. Mickey rolled his eyes, lips pulling into a sad grin.

“It’s been years, since, uh…” Ian gestured with the free hand, not being able to finish the sentence. He rocked his head, knowingly. Mickey understood what time Ian was talking about. Of course, he would.

“Do you, uh, maybe want to grab a drink?” asked Ian, his voice going higher and higher by every word leaving his lips.

The shorter guy opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but closed it. Not a single sound coming out of it.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought I woul-“ rambled Ian, tripping over his own words. How embarrassing. 

“Stop,” a whisper came out of Mickey, a shy smile played on his lips. It was so quiet, like a wind breeze. His first words to Ian after all those years of silence, “I have to work.”

“Yeah, right, uh… sorry for keeping you,” Ian stumbled, “Uh, it was great to see you, Mick-ey.”

“You talk too much, Gallagher,” chuckled Mickey silently. 

Ian turned around on the heel, he didn’t want Mickey to miss the work because of him. Ian pulled out his phone to call for Uber.

But a small hand grabbed Ian’s shoulder, pulling him to stop. Mickey was looking at Ian like a cautious puppy; on the other hand, he was holding his iPhone. 

“Uh,” started Ian.

“Your number,” whispered the dark-haired man, “Can I?”

Oh. _Oh_. Mickey asked for his phone number. How surprising.

“Of course,” Ian quickly hit his phone number on Mickey’s phone, saving it under the name of ‘Ian Gallagher’, and handed it back to the owner. Their fingers touched. It burned Ian’s soft skin; it was like the younger man had touched the fire.

Mickey took his phone back and slid it into his jean pocket. Then he waved good-bye and run the other direction. Away from Ian. _To the work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Thank you for reading! It means so much to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian finally gets to learn more about Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's still feeling emotional about the last week's episode? 🙋🏽 And the very last table read...stoop, I'm crying!!

Six days. It’d been six days since the last Monday when Ian shared his phone number with Mickey. 

_No._

It’d been six days when _Mickey_ asked for Ian’s digits; his ocean-blue eyes gazing at Ian like a shy puppy. 

It had been six long days and Ian still keeps his phone in his hand literally for every passing hour. The man didn’t dare to leave it without him no matter where or what he was doing, whether it was a meeting in the law firm with other lawyers to discuss the recent precedents or brushing his teeth late at night, phone levering on the edge of the sink, after taking his medications. His phone was like a sacred wealth he was afraid to lose, not risking to close his emerald green eyes even just for a second; afraid to miss the fateful moment the dark-haired man would message him.

Every time Ian heard his phone make a sound letting the man know someone had tried to reach him, the red-haired man’s heart sped up, adrenaline rushing through blood vessels, making his broad back feel hot and tingly. Soft hairs on the spine rose up from bursting butterflies in his lower abdomen. But seeing it wasn’t the person he longed the most, made his mood sink just like Titanic; disappointment settling over the body. 

_Fuck._

Ian felt saudade; from the moment the sun climbed up the sky till it glided down through the evening clouds. 

The ginger crawled to the kitchen to grab a slice of Hawaiian pizza he brought with him coming home from the exhausting workday. It was the first day back to the regular routine. Back to the typical work duties. Back to the thrill of it all. No more newbie following him around like a lost tail. The man felt how the deeply missed energy slowly filled his bones — from the end of his toenails to the end of the thread of the auburn red hair — making him feel like the old self again. 

Ian dropped on the brown sofa in the dimly lit living room; folded blankets sitting in the corner of it, and switched on a random music playlist on YouTube on the flat TV to fill in the calm room with quiet melodies of indie-rock songs. The man took a huge bite of his not-so-healthy dinner; the pizza was getting cold in the middle, but Ian was too hungry, like a bear, — his stomach hurt and gurgled from abandonment — to heat it up.

He spread his legs wide open in front of him; socked feet resting on the ground under the wooden coffee table. He looked like a starfish. Ian’s shoulders, dressed in a green cotton jacket, relaxed against the back of the couch. The younger man leisurely scrolled through his Instagram profile to like the recent photos his colleagues had posted from the Saturday night party in the downtown of Chicago. He casually replied to Lip’s sent meme with laughing, crying emoji though it wasn’t really that funny. Guilty. 

_Ding._

A notification popped on the top of the screen. A massage. From unknown.

No fucking way. It couldn’t be. This better not be a chain message from an odd retailer telling him Ian was the lucky customer to win a discount coupon for his next purchase.

Ian bolted forwards. His shaking fingers hovered over the green iMessage icon, too nervous to reveal the truth.

**(8:49 PM) Unknown** : hi

Another ding sound followed a second later.

**(8:49 PM) Unknown** : it’s Mickey

Ian’s heart stalled; he swore he could feel how it skipped a beat, making his chest tighten in aching spasm. The ginger’s breath hitched, a gasping sound leaving his pink lips. The whole world had stopped spinning in front of him. The time had frozen in place.

It’d been six days since their fingers brushed against each other's skin…

**(8:51 PM) Ian** : Hey.

Ian waited for a few minutes before he hit the ‘send’ button, the man didn’t want to look like a desperate bitch. His mind went black. It was happening. The man Ian had the deepest crush on his whole twenty-four years of being alive, texted him. Mickey hadn’t changed his mind. He wanted to connect with Ian. The redhead sighed loudly to hold back the spinning dizziness forming in his head.

The man had zero ideas on how to keep the conversation flowing. It was just like that day on the train, none of them daring to say a single word, but stealing glances every time the other man turned away. 

**(8:55 PM) Ian** : Did you have a good evening at work? You know, that day?

That’s a great conversation starter, right? 

**(8:56 PM) Mickey** : dealin with annoying asses ain’t really the way I imagined my evening go, but yeah. it was okay I guess

**(8:56 PM) Ian** : What do you do? 

**(8:57 PM) Mickey** : security 

Interesting. Knowing Mickey and his tendencies to fly his fists around whenever someone stared in his direction for too long than necessary, this was actually a perfect choice of career field for him. He had to kick everyone's butts and get paid for doing it. Yeah, that was so Mickey. 

**(8:57 PM) Ian** : Oh, yeah? That’s so cool.

**(8:57: PM) Ian** : You can beat up the bad guys and save the day. 

**(8:58 PM) Mickey** : at the mall

**(8:58 PM) Mickey** : don’t get any real action there. maybe tackle down fuckin teenage girls stealin ugly ass dresses if I’m lucky

A giggle left Ian’s parted lips. He could imagine how grumpy Mickey must appear right now; his dark brows perfectly arched in annoyance. Ian tried to picture the raven-head wearing a silly uniform as a security guard in the mall. A coy smile played on Ian’s shining face.

**(8:59 PM) Mickey** : how about you, fire crotch? looked all fancy and shit.

A pink blush crept up on Ian’s neck and cheeks, making them itch. Mickey complimented him in a very own Mickey style.

**(8:59 PM) Ian** : I work at a law firm practicing family law. 

**(9:00 PM) Mickey** : as a janitor?

**(9:00 PM) Ian** : No!

**(9:00 PM) Mickey** : I’m fuckin with you, man

**(9:01 PM) Ian** : I’m a law student, actually. Got a spot at my professor’s place.

**(9:02 PM) Mickey** : a south side boy moving up the world. that’s something new

**(9:02 PM) Mickey** : good for you. at least some of us get out of that shit hole and make something out of life

Ian was indeed fortuitous to get out of the beating heart of South Side. But it left a sour aftertaste in the mouth; not everyone gets so lucky to live out their truest dreams and make this world a better place. Not everybody gets a chance to thrive to be happy. It made Ian shudder in sorrow.

**(9:04 PM) Ian** : Are you still living on the South Side?

**(9:04 PM) Mickey** : yeah, but not in the back of the yards anymore.

**(9:05 PM) Mickey** : moved away from the fuckin house years ago. share a place with Mands and Iggy.

Lip was right about him moving out of the neighborhood. He’s glad Mickey took his siblings with him, too; they don’t deserve to live at the damn Milkovich household where no joyous memories were made. He had heard people talking about that house. Nothing good reached his ears. 

But then Ian remembered Mickey walking down Bowen Avenue. The faithful day when the universe slowly pushed them together; a day that was meant to be the beginning of a long journey. At least Ian hoped so. It was a block away from where the red-head is settled. Have they been so close to each other this whole time, practically living on the same street for the past year or two?

**(9:06 PM) Ian** : Uh. I hope I don’t sound like some fucking creep or anything, but…

Mickey didn’t give Ian time to finish the second text message. A blue text box popped on the screen, showing Mickey had already typed his observation.

**(9:06 PM) Mickey** : sad to break it down for you, but you have always been one, man

**(9:06 PM) Ian** : Fuck off, Mickey! :D 

**(9:07 PM) Ian** : But seriously. I think I saw you on Bowen Ave. some time ago? 

**(9:07 PM) Mickey** : you think?

**(9:07 PM) Ian** : I mean, yes. You passed by my side and didn’t see me. Then I called after you to maybe get your attention, but you didn’t turn around. So…

Mickey was a quick responder, but this time no answer came back. _Too early_. Three grey bubbles danced on the bright screen. It was like Mickey couldn’t come up with a remark.

**(9:10 PM) Ian** : Well, I live in the area, so maybe, I thought, you know, you were living here, too.

**(9:10 PM) Ian** : But I could be mistaken.

**(9:11 PM) Ian** : You know.

**(9:11 PM) Ian** : Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck, you don’t have to answer.

**(9:12 PM) Mickey** : can you chill your fuckin tits?

Ian let out a frustrated laugh. _Fuck_. He made himself look like an embarrassing idiot. The red-haired man climbed off the couch to open up the  window to let in the chilly night air of the beginning of April. His legs were wobbly from the nerves pulsing through his body and mind.

**(9:13 PM) Ian** : Sorry.

**(9:13 PM) Mickey** : stop

**(9:13 PM) Mickey** : I met up with Iggy at his girlfriend’s place. he sometimes stays there

**(9:14 PM) Ian** : Shit, I haven’t seen him in a decade. Iggy has a girlfriend?

**(9:15 PM) Mickey** : I was surprised too man. found them fuckin humping against my fuckin fridge

**(9:15 PM) Mickey** : that’s the image that keeps givin me nightmares. trust me, not cool

Ian sent back three laughing, crying emojis. This time, he truly meant it. He adored Mickey’s sense of humor.

The men kept texting for more than half an hour. They mostly talked about their siblings. Ian told Mickey about Franny and Freddie, how cute and funny they were. He learned that Mandy had got a certification in cosmetology and now was working in a beauty salon, qualified as a make-up artist and a hairdresser. The ginger was sure the young lady was skillful and amazing at her job. He recalled a time when Debbie was just a kid and hung out with Mandy. She once gave his little sister a makeover — a beautiful hairstyle with curls and braids and a full face of make-up. Mandy did a great job, but Debbie was too young to dress up like that yet. 

Mickey’s brother Iggy was the one who found the two-bedroom apartment away from their childhood house. He had stayed out of trouble with the laws for years now and Mickey was proud of him. He even told Ian how fucking sappy he had got since he started dating Jacquelin, his girlfriend.

Ian hoped one day they could all meet for a drink…

**(9:46 PM) Ian** : Alright, Mickey. I feel sleepy, better head to bed. Tomorrow’s a busy day. 

**(9:46 PM) Ian** : Talk to you later, maybe?

**(9:47 PM) Mickey** : yeah, grandpa, go to sleep. talk to you later.

Ian stumbled to his cozy bedroom. He was so cold; goose-bumps all over his pale and toned skin. That happened to the man when he couldn’t keep his heavy eyes open, tired from reading cases and writing documents. It was mentally exhausting work that demanded high-level focusing all day long. 

But once Ian’s messy head hit the pillow, a wide smile — white teeth showing — curved upwards on his lightly chapped lips, making the corners of his eye wrinkle in thin lines. The man pulled the weighty blanket to his slightly crooked chin to hide his face from the shining moon that was the only source of the light in the pitch-black room. His mind replied the conversation with Mickey, fantasizing about his soft facial expressions and silky lips Ian dreamed to feel against his one day. He replied all the lines Mickey had written, imagining the older man saying them out loud in a husky evening voice by Ian’s side.

The younger man rolled to his side, cocooned into pleasantly soothing sheets. Ian wondered about things he would do and whisper to Mickey if he let him; he’d declare love through delicate touches, tracing fingers over Mickey’s hot skin, feeling every scar and bump painted on his body, kissing them to wipe away the aching past. Ian would nuzzle Mickey’s dark hair with his nose to breathe in the scent that belonged to Mickey and only him. Ian would stare into his crystal-blue eyes, litter millions of smooches over his eyelids, tip of the nose and cheeks, and pull the older man close to his bare chest — sprinkled in auburn hair that would tickle the lover’s skin back — to feel the fast-beating heart against his until they would slow down and beat in one rhythm. Together.

All the spinning thought of Mickey held Ian back from lulling to sleep. The man just stared into the abyss and smiled to himself like a goof. Ian noticed how tiny drops of sweat formed on the back of his neck, sliding down the hot skin; his body temperature rose from intimate thoughts. Ian stretched his hairy leg out of the duvet to cool off, loosely hanging out of the bed. He even flipped the pillow his redhead was resting on to the other side. 

Ian wanted to reach out to take his phone from the end table next to his bed to read a book he was currently reading — _The Great Gatsby_. But he argued himself out of it, knowing the blue-light will worsen his insomnia and keep him up much longer than needed. Ian couldn’t run the risk of yawning every ten minutes tomorrow eight in the morning during a serious meet-up with a potential client. That’d be totally unprofessional and unacceptable.

_Ding._

Whatever. 

The bright glow of the screen punched Ian right in the guts. It was so bright it burned his eyes out, so he kept them squeezed tightly close and blindly tried to reduce the luminous gleam.

**(11:03 PM) Mickey** : I’m sorry

**(11:03 PM) Ian** : For what?

**(11:04 PM) Mickey** : that night at the dugouts y’know…

Ian knew.

**(11:05 PM) Ian** : I forgave you a long time ago, Mick.

———

The red-head couldn’t deal with the overwhelm slowly squirming over the muscular frame. The man pushed away with the dark grey office swivel chair with a loud scratching sound from the loaded desk full of paper. _Five minutes_. Ian needed just five fucking minutes of silence. And there was only one place where his wish would be granted. A bathroom stall. So Ian decided to hit a five-minute bathroom break. 

Ian pushed down the toilet seat and sat down. Sure, this wasn’t the best place to take a deep breath to calm down the irritated nerve endings, but this was the only room without noisy running people around. 

One more hour till he was finally off the business to leave the hectic building for the day. Tuesdays were his favorite; Ian only worked half-time, meaning he got home when the sun was still glowingly shining over his orange head.

He pulled out his iPhone from the pocket of the suit pants to send a quick update message to Mickey. Ian hadn’t heard anything from the older man since the last night’s emotional confession. It meant so much to Ian. Knowing that Mickey was thinking about Ian and the vulnerable memories they shared in history after their conversation, drifted him to the dreamland. 

**(2:02 PM) Ian** : Hi! I hope your day’s going better than mine.

A response came back in a second.

**(2:03 PM) Mickey** : sup, man. sitting in a meeting listenin to pussies whining

**(2:03 PM) Ian** : Oh, yeah? What kind of meeting? Sex addicts anonymous?

**(2:04 PM) Mickey** : nah Galagher. it’s whatever

The other man wasn’t ready to elaborate. And it wasn’t Ian’s place to ask. So Ian tried to ship the conversation in another path to make Mickey feel more comfortable.

**(2:04 PM) Ian** : Gallagher’s spelled with two l’s, dumbass. ;)

**(2:04 PM) Mickey** : okay GalLagher

**(2:05 PM) Mickey** : what about you?

**(2:05 PM) Ian** : Well, I’m fucking hiding in the bathroom from my co-workers.

**(2:05 PM) Mickey** : so that’s what lawyers do huh? shouldn’t you be solving crimes and shit

**(2:06 PM) Ian** : Solving true crimes would be more fun than sorting statements of drunk parents promising how they have changed for the better when the court threatens to take the kids away.

It reminded the younger man of his schooldays. Those lawsuits that included children in neglected families tore apart the unhealed stitches from the bittersweet past Ian had gone through with his own shoes.

**(2:07 PM) Mickey** : and you’re sitting in the stinky toilet when instead you should help those poor kids. well done Gallagher

**(2:07 PM) Ian** : Fuck you very much!

**(2:07 PM) Ian** : Anyway, I gotta go, my five-minute break’s over.

**(2:07 PM) Mickey** : do what you gotta do, man

**(2:08 PM) Ian** : Bye.

Ian was one step closer to his Italian takeaway lunch. Walking to the L station Ian decided to reward himself with a juicy home-made Italian pasta with pesto sauce and crunchy garlic bread, drizzled with green seasoning. His mouth watered and his eyes sparkled in anticipation. Nothing made Ian more gleeful than a full belly with delicious goods. 

Something, more like an elbow, poked Ian’s arm, yanking him out of the food dreams. 

_Mickey._

Well, the universe was definitely trying to tie them together.

The dark-haired man grinned at Ian’s surprised expression: “Hey,” Ian nervously exclaimed, jumping in astonish how unfamiliar his voice vibrated; too high and too gentle.

“Hi, Ian,” that was the first time Ian heard Mickey say out loud his name. It was always Gallagher or fire-crotch or even asshole, but never _Ian_. It was euphoric melody to his ears; the younger man quivered how sensual the word came out of Mickey’s mouth. His superb creative imagination formed different scenarios with Mickey calling his name and all of the thought led to erotic moments; Mickey breathing out his name when Ian hit his most sensitive spot, Mickey moaning _Ian_ when riding off the highs of pleasure. He was fucked. 

Ian cleared his throat and crossed his tall legs to stop the blood circulation in his crotch. This wasn’t the best place to display his nine-inch hard-on. 

“So,” began Ian, not knowing what to say next, “what brings you here?”

“My meetings are held down the block,” the shorter guy motioned his head in another direction, showing Ian where he had come from.

“The sex meetings?” joked Ian. That was cringy. Ian saw Mickey roll his blue eyes.

“Don’t call ‘em like that, asshole,” Mickey’s nose scrunched upwards in slight disgust. _So cute_. But something else caught Ian’s attention. Mickey had a slight accent. He couldn’t tell what kind of, but it was there. 

“You going to the work?” curiously ask the red-head, remembering last week's events.

“Nah, have a day off this time,”

“Cool,” a superficial mute wrapped around the men.

Mickey spun around to face Ian, eyes scanning over Ian’s features as if counting freckled constellations: “How about that drink you own me, huh?”

“Like right now?”

The raven-head hummed thoughtfully: “Gotta be somewhere?”

Hypothetically, yes, his lunch was waiting for Ian. But that’s the sacrifice he’s willing to make.

“No, of course not,” stuttered Ian, tripping over his own words, “I mean, yeah, sure we can go out, but-“

“Can you fuckin’ stop mumbling so much,” Mickey shushed the agitated man in front of him by bringing his index finger — a black inked U ornamenting his knuckle — close to Ian’s rose-pink lips, “You make no fuckin’ sense.”

_When did Mickey get tattoos on his knuckles?_ His gaze slid over his hands. FUCK U-UP it read. Ian didn’t recall them when he was a teen. The taller man took a deep breath to gather all the running thoughts in one bouquet: “I look too dressed up for a drink, I guess?”

“Look fine to me,” whispered Mickey, his stare drifting up and down Ian’s firm silhouette, “But we can do it another time. Well, only if you want to.”

“I want to,” replied Ian confidently to block the doubtful thoughts shaping under Mickey’s skull, “How about in few hours, hm? I’ll text you the address.”

“Sure,” shrugged Mickey.

———

Ian waited for Mickey in a bar near his apartment. The man hoped it wasn’t too inconvenient for Mickey to get here. Ian had been here before. The man liked the place; it was quite cozy actually. Only a few people were sitting on the stools and slurping the drinks; it was Tuesday evening after all. 

The man found a seating area away from the others at the furthest corner; a single light bulb hanging down the ceiling, illuminating the leather booth in a faintly yellow shine. A bitter smell of alcoholic beverages whirlpools around the air. Ian ordered a coke and a bottle of beer for Mickey.  


The red-head took his phone to text Mickey to let him know he’s already waiting for him, but at the exact moment as if summoned by Ian’s telepathic thoughts, Mickey pushed open the wooden front door of the bar and stopped to peek around and find the man he was supposed to meet.   


Mickey looked marvelous. Stunning. Comparing to Ian, who was wearing bright red Adidas track pants and sky blue T-shirt with a cargo jacket, Mickey was well put together; a striped sweater rolled up the elbows highlighting his strong arms, a navy vest matching with the color of his eyes, the midnight black pants tightly wrapping around the defined calf muscles and round butt. _Little fashionista_. 

Ian stretched his long arm upwards to get the newcomer's attention.

“Hey, you made it,” Ian greeted Mickey as the older man slid into the other side of the seating booth in front of Ian. The red-haired man felt how their knees touched under the table.

“Of course,” replied Mickey as Ian slid the glass bottle across the wooden surface to Mickey’s hands, “Almost missed the train because of my bitch of a sister.”

Ian snorted: “What she’d do?”

“Uh…” Mickey squinted and leaned forward to see Ian’s face closer, “Can we seat somewhere else? Kinda dark here.”

“Sure,” they grabbed their drinks and moved closer to the entrance where the lightning was more radiant, “Better?”

“Hm?”

“Better now?” Mickey glared at Ian’s lips.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t,” calmed Ian, “It’s okay.”

He couldn’t figure out why Mickey constantly kept staring at his lips when Ian was talking. It made Ian more skittish as if something was stuck between the front teeth. 

“So, about Mandy,” asked Ian, he wanted to hear the whole story the Milkovich siblings teasing each others asses, “What did she do when you almost missed the L?”

“Bitch kept asking stupid fuckin’ questions about me headin’ out so late,”

“She’s just worried about you, man,” stated the red-head, “You don’t go out that much?”

“Not really my thing,” Mickey poured down the whole bottle of beer in one sitting. The man wiped his mouth with the back of the hand, “The fuck is this shit?”

“I can get you another drink. What do ya want?”

“Please,” puffed the older guy, “Whiskey,” he pulled out the black wallet from the vest to get the money for the ginger.

“No,” Ian touched Mickey’s hand to push it away, “It’s on me.”

“Didn’t know you got tattoos,” wondered the taller guy after bringing Mickey a glass filled with sweet whiskey.

“Got ‘em when was seventeen,” blurred Mickey, “A present from Pops after getting out of the fuckin’ juvie.”

“The fuck you did, Mickey?”

“Punched a kid in a face while on parole,” grinned Mickey, “Shithead owned Iggy some money.”

“A brother helping out brother,” laughed Ian, “How thoughtful of you, Mick.”

“Something like that, yeah,” he took a noisy slurp of the beverage.

“Been stayin’ out of trouble?”

“I’m done with that part of my life. I’m fuckin’ done livin’ the way other people tell me. Shit happened, opened up my eyes. I don’t believe in God or shit, but He kinda gave me the second chance to, uh, live.”

Ian wanted to reach out and take Mickey’s freakishly small hand in his; caress rough skin with his thumb. He ached to tell him how fucking proud he was of Mickey through warm touches.

“What happened?” sincerely asked Ian. He’ll understand if Mickey decides to not talk about the past; it was too personal. Ian will wait for him and be by his side to hold him whenever Mickey’s ready.

“I lost my hearing.” 

The man in front of Mickey stopped breathing. It felt like the air from his lungs got sucked out, leaving him choking. 

“I mean, not completely,” continued the man, tracing his finger along the rim of the glass, “I have moderate hearing loss. That’s what my doctor said.”

A single tear stuck between Ian’s orange eyelashes between slowly rolling down the left cheek and neck, disappearing under the shirt. Mickey must have seen that, he reached over the table and patted Ian’s large palm trying to calm down the redhead. Fuck. Ian must be the one taking care of him, not the other way around. The younger man brought his damp hands to his eyes to wipe away the sorrow. He has to stay strong. For Mickey.

“So that plastic thingy in your ear…” began Ian, voice cracking, his finger touched his own ear.

“… a hearing aid, yeah,” finished Mickey.

“Why?”

“That’s a story for another day,”

Ian shook his head in understanding: “How does it feel?”

“Weird… I mean, I’ve got used to it now. Took a while, actually, was pretty fucked up for some time. It’s not like I fuckin’ don’t hear or anything, I do. But shitty. The hearing aid helps a lot.”

“Can you hear my voice?”

“I hear when you talk, but not all words. Some. It’s like loud fuckin’ music playing in the background — you hear when someone talks to you, but you can’t understand the words they’re mumbling.”

“When you’re looking at my lips, you’re reading them, right?” questioned Ian, putting the puzzle pieces together one by one.

“I try at least,” breathed Mickey, “I suck at it, man. I can read Mandy’s and Iggy’s lips, ‘cause I’ve learned their speech patterns and all. But for others, it’s hard as fuck. Long conversations are exhausting, too, I have to stay focused all the time and sill lose them in mid-sentence.” admitted Mickey, starting deeply in Ian’s worried eyes, “And when you start the word vomiting, it doesn’t help either.”

“Sorry,” a weak smile played on the red-haired man’s face.

“You have great facial expressions, tho. It helps to read the tone like I know when you’re fuckin’ messing with me or when you’re a nervous bitch.”

“I’m not nervous,” argued Ian. Mickey had caught him.

“Sure you are,” giggled the older man, “You blush a lot and your ginger eyebrows shoot up.”

“Shut up, man,” blushed Ian, his cheeks warming up. Mickey rose his eyebrows in _I told you so_ , “Then how it’s easier for you to talk? Do you sign?”

“Some people write when they get frustrated with me. Or start talking louder, like that shit’s gonna help, fuckin’ hate it. But, yeah, signing is a fuckin’ relief.”

“And the meeting…”

“It’s a group for deaf or hard of hearing people. Those motherfuckers are cool; they understand what shit we’re dealin’ with. They actually were the ones who taught me to fuckin’ sign.”

“Damn, that’s heavy, Mick. I’m really sorry you have to go through all this shit.”

_“_ It’s cool,” Mickey casually shrugged off.

“Well, if we’re on the heavy topic,” started Ian after a while, when Mickey’s words settled down. The man took a gulp of now warm coke to wet the dry mouth, “I’m bipolar.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m- Wait, hold on,” Ian reached into his pocket for his phone to write it down on notes for Mickey to understand.

“I’m fuckin’ with you, Ian,” Mickey cracked up, “I heard you.”

And Ian shared his story. He told Mickey about the first time he experienced the symptoms of mania, and then the following depression. He told Mickey about the visits to the doctor to get his mood stabilizers and antidepressants. Ian told him everything; he felt safe, Mickey didn’t judge him, he stayed quiet and listened to the red-heads monologue and bobbed his head empathetically. Ian even told him how he felt during the last episode, not feeling ashamed of his emotions. Ian could wear his heart on his sleeve, leaving all the naked and vulnerable thoughts on the plate in front of him.

Mickey was perfect to Ian. His whole world and even more. Mickey meant everything to him.

“You’re still fuckin’ Ian Gallagher, bipolar or not. It doesn’t define who you are, man,” whispered Mickey when Ian stopped talking, “You’re still the fuckin’ alien-looking carrot top to me, man.”

“My ex-fucking-boyfriend didn’t think so,” admitted Ian, he knew Mickey wasn’t like Issac, but it still felt weird not seeing him freak out or anything. Mickey was completely okay with his disorder. He understood, “Fucker accused my being a liar.”

“Fuck that dumb shit.”

“Right?” chuckled Ian, “You, uh, been in a relationship recently?”

“Man, I don’t know ‘bout you,” said Mickey, avoiding Ian’s delicate question, “But I need a fuckin’ drink.”

As the night progressed, Mickey got trashed. Wasted. He couldn’t stand still on his feet; wobbling like a ragdoll. 

“A’ight, man,” slurred Mickey when the fresh midnight air caressed their hot faces outside the bar, “I’mma head out. See ya later, douchebag.”

“Wait,” called Ian, grabbing his shoulder, “The hell you think you’re goin’?”

“I didn’t hear a single word ya just said,” alcohol had taken his ability to focus. The streetlight scattered the dark enough for Mickey to see Ian’s moving lips.

“You’re not going home like this,” said Ian, “It’s dark, you can’t see nor hear.”

“If you think I haven’t been out at night before, then you’re fuckin’ wrong, I’ll be fine.”

“Jesus, Mick,” moaned the younger man, “Wait, I’ll get you an Uber.”

Ian needed to get Mickey back home safe; in one piece.

“Fuck, fine,” agreed the drunk man painfully later.

That night when Mickey texted him back telling him he was in his apartment; all safe and sound, Ian didn’t waste any time and dived into researching Mickey’s loss of hearing to understand him better. He wanted to communicate with the man in sign language so it was easier for Mickey. Ian scrolled through thousands of videos on the Internet that would help him to at least learn some basic words in American Sign Language. Franky, it wasn’t that simple; Ian’s long clumsy fingers couldn’t move fluently enough to form letters and numbers in signs. It took hours for him to remember how to move his hands to say, _Ian Gallagher._ And even then he messed up. That’s alright. He will try for Mickey. Ian will do this for Mickey.

  
———

For the next week or so, the man didn’t get a chance to meet up again; they were busy, their work schedules didn’t match. But the men messaged every day — during lunch breaks, bathroom breaks, and Ian’s favorite - before sleep. They talked about nothing at all, but everything at the same time. Ian shared awkward stories growing up and Mickey replied with the dumb shit he did that he regrets now. They were bonding. A beautiful friendship blossoming between the past lovers. Ian was greatful to have Mickey back in his life.

**(5:21 PM) Ian** : Hey, asshole. What are you doing tomorrow?

**(5:23 PM) Mickey** : nothing, that's the fuckin point of saturday

**(5:23 PM) Ian** : Then you’re coming with me to Lip’s place.

**(5:23 PM) Ian** : We’re having a movie night.

**(5:24 PM) Mickey** : actually i forgot, i have this thing...

**(5:24 PM) Ian** : Don’t fuck with me, Milkovich. So, you’re in?

**(5:26 PM) Mickey** : fine. now leave me alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Also, if i got some things wrong, please feel free to correct me. :)  
> I really hope this chapter doesn't feel rushed in any way. I don't really have time to write as much as I'd like to - university ain't no joke. Next chapter's gonna be all sweet and fluffy. Stay tuned! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey bond - a beautiful friendship blooming in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter by far. Also, my favorite!  
> Before you start reading, I'd like to mention some things first:  
> \- In Mickey's POV assume all sibling are always signing, didn't want to write 'signed' hundreds of times;  
> \- A brief mentions of Terry being Terry.
> 
> Enjoy! :))

“Hello, how are you?” Ian signed to Mickey as the older man approached him in front of his brother’s new house; a burning cigarette levering on the bottom of the velvety lip. After spending the whole Friday night watching tutorial videos and practicing American Sign Language, Ian had successfully learned the basic phrases to have a simple chit-chat such as ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘I like your shoes’. And Ian was quite satisfied with his performance when the younger man’s gaze caught a glimpse of sky-blue eyes rolling and corner of the mouth twitching in slight amusement.

“You callin’ me a dick breath?”

“What? No! I said-” Ian repeated the signs once again, but this time slower and more expressive. A wheezing sound left the raven-haired man’s lips which made Ian even more frustrated; pink rush creeping on his neck. 

“Why the fuck are you laughing, Mick?”

“It’s just,” Mickey wiped off the tears in his eyes, they were puffy from the chuckling; the man cleared his throat to stop his voice from cracking, “It’s just so fuckin’ easy to mess with you, man.”  


“You know I have an ego to maintain, right? This ain’t helping.”  


“Hi, I’m fine, _motherfucker_ ,” Mickey quickly moved his short, tattooed fingers to sign the answer to Ian’s die or live question.

“Come the fuck on, Mickey,” groaned the redhead, he didn’t understand the last part of the sentence Mickey signed, and he had a feeling that his friend was fucking him. Again. “Explain the last word!”  


“Uhh, no,” thought the shorter man, “That’s a deep, dark secret I ain’t tellin’ you, Gallagher.”

Ian dunked Mickey’s shoulder playfully which brought a low growl. He loved how unforced the tie between the of them had grown into. A comfortable comfort trembled in the air, making them feel free, be themselves in their own skin — Mickey and Ian. Nothing to hide. Nothing to lose. Just a captivating link pulling the men tighter together as one pulsing heart.

_Ian and Mickey._

Against the rest of the world.

“Come on, tough guy,” said Ian, “Let’s go inside.”

A sound of warm laughter brushed against pale Ian’s face when he opened the front door of Lip’s house. Other Gallaghers have already arrived, all gathered up in the living room in front of the secondhand TV slurping beer or soda. Franny was playing with Freddie with his rattle toy; the shaking noise caused the little buddy to giggle cheerfully; both children were sitting on a yellow blanked and throw pillows that laid on the carpeted floor.

The ginger had informed his siblings about the new guest that would be joining for the family traditional movie night — they were a bit surprised for a second, but a friend of a Gallagher was a friend to the whole clan. The Gallagher’s tried to organize a movie night at least once every month; one month at Ian’s place, one at Lip’s, and one at the castle of the Gallagher’s; to bring everyone together just like the old days when they were young kids. 

“Yo, Ian,” called out his brother, when he saw two men walking towards the group. Lip rushed closer to Ian, in one hand holding a beer can, to hug him. It’s been some time since they saw each other in person.

“Hey,” the younger man patted Lip’s back to respond to the greeting touch, “So, Lip, this is Mickey. Mickey this is my brother Lip.”

“I know who he is, dumbass,” replied Mickey; Ian was just trying to be nice. The shorter guy took Lip’s firm hand to shake it. _What a gentleman._ “What’s up, man.”

“Hi. It’s been, what, ten years since I last saw you. You look great, man.”

“Thanks,”

“Uhh, you guys want a beer?”

“Sure,” said Mickey.

“I’ll pass,” Ian’s voice spoke at the same moment.

“Right, ‘cause you don’t want to get trashed in front of your _friend,_ ” Lip teased the younger man. He knew about Ian’s crazy attraction towards Mickey; how over the head he was into him. Ian couldn’t shut up telling Lip about the night at the bar and how dreamy the older guy looked and how he sometimes unintentionally jokingly flirted with him, at least Ian thought so. It could be just the unhealthy obsession simulating all the thoughts in his mind. Words tumbled out of Ian’s mouth like a snow avalanche, he even slipped and told his brother about Mickey’s hearing loss. Though Lip promised to hold the information to himself — that was Mickey’s thing to tell whenever he was ready or comfortable. 

The taller guy squeezed on the couch between Carl and Debbie. Ian exchanged some word with them, asked about their days and stuff, but he couldn’t focus on having a conversation with them, especially Carl, bragging about how this girl he had liked for quite a while finally agreed to go out with him when Mickey was having a chat with Lip close to the entrance to the kitchen. He simply nodded to seem interested in the topic when actually the redhead was secretly eavesdropping.

“Finally decided to move out, huh?” observed Mickey leaning against the wooden door frame, his blue eyes checking out the interior of the house.

“Yeah, Tami’s been on my ass about how fucking loud is the Gallagher house and Freddie needs his own room.”

“Looks like you’ve been renovating shit.”

“Painted the walls and fixed the molded floorboards in the living room and the hall. That was a fucking disaster, man. Dead rats everywhere! Tomorrow when Tami visits her family and have the place to myself, I’ll start working on the kitchen. See this wall?” Lip knocked on the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room, “I’ll sledgehammer it.”

“The wall looks fine to me.”

“Oh, I know and I like how it looks, too, but-“

“Your girlfriend?” snorted Mickey.

“Yeah, she drew fucking blueprints how she wants this place to look like. If something looks different from her plan, she’ll rip my nuts off. Come look at these tiles I want to fix,” the man disappeared into the kitchen.

Ian tried to hide the shy smile playing on the corner of his lip. He found it so fucking adorable to see Mickey all interested in renovation shit. Lip basically had to drag Ian’s ass with sufficient force to help out his brother with two more hands when Lip bolted the baseboards around the living room; it wasn’t his thing. The shorter boy listened with enthusiasm, eyes sparkling with curiosity to get his own hands on demolishing things. But what made Ian blush, even more, was how Mickey was having a normal conversation with Ian’s family. Mickey belonged between the Gallagher chaos and Ian wanted to keep it that way.

“Lip! Mickey!” yelled Debbie next to Ian, that was loud, he felt a sharp pain stab his eardrum, “Movie’s about to start!”

They decided to watch _The Lion King_ because none of them had seen it yet. Mickey flopped on the armchair with a thud to Ian’s right and Lip switched off the lights, dressing the room in darkness to create the atmosphere of the cinema. 

Ian wanted to ask Mickey something but it was too dark for him to see his lips and Ian didn’t know how to sign his question, so instead, he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and hit a quick text message.

**(7:31 PM) Ian** : Should I be jealous?

A vibrating buzz came from Mickey, he read the message, but instead of answering his blue eyes stared at Ian to catch his attention, one eyebrow perfectly arched in confusion.

**(7:31 PM) Ian** : My brother’s stealing my friend.

Mickey hushed out a snort.

**(7:32 PM) Mickey** : you should. we’re having a fuckin tea party tomorrow and you’re not invited

Ian giggled which earned a punch in the arm from Debbie: “Shut up, Ian,” the girl whispered. 

**(7:32 PM) Mickey** : lip asked me to help with his house shit tomorrow

**(7:32 PM) Ian** : Don’t burn down the house, Milkovich.

**(7:33 PM) Mickey** : nah, I ain’t done living yet

Ian bit his lip nervously before he sent the next message. It felt weird to secretly message him when they were five feet apart. Mickey could easily gaze at the redhead and read all his thoughts.

**(7:34 PM) Ian** : I’m glad you came with me tonight.

**(7:34 PM) Mickey** : me too

**(7:34 PM) Mickey** : thanks for invitin me

Almost half an hour after the movie had begun to play Freddie managed to fall asleep on the pillow on the ground; he looked like a curled-up kitty, tiny arms wrapped around his short legs. Lip had to carry the exhausted toddler to his bed. It was a warmhearted evening spent together with folks Ian cared the most. Everyone was sucked into the fiction world; even Mickey who was a grumpy motherfucker, seemed to be interested in the story of wildlife animals. But when the bitter scene came alive — Simba nuzzling into the furry coat of his father’s King Mufasa lifeless body to feel him one last time, to say goodbye, left the siblings sobbing. Some were holding the tears from rolling down the cheek, some were quietly whimpering, emotions suffocating the frail souls.

Through the watery eyes, Ian noticed how his niece Franny gazed at the black-haired man; she always sneaked glances in Mickey’s direction all night long, as if intrigued by the man she never had seen before. The young lady with orange hair slowly, at a snail pace, slid closer and closer to Mickey’s legs, like a predator sneaking to its prey, desiring not to be seen. But Ian had seen the tiny motions. Franny wanted to comfort the gloomy man by soft touches of warm and sticky child hands; the girl was too young to understand why the adults were sad. 

Ian glared at Mickey trying to pull him out of the misty thought. When the older man looked back; Ian could see in the flashing lights, illuminating the room, his eyes were slightly swollen from the sorrow. Ian pointed to the girl on the ground and patted his lap to reveal Mickey Franny’s mysterious plan. Mickey looked at Franny, fighting his mind, thinking if this was a good idea. But then he shrugged his shoulders in _what the hell_ swing and pulled her in his strong lap. Ian could see the little ginger smirk in winning. The younger man swallowed a thick lump in his throat, smiling at the picture of Mickey lulling a child in his secure arms. One day, maybe, one day, Mickey will be holding their own baby against the loving skin…

“That was emo, guys,” groaned Liam when the credits started to roll on the black screen.

“Shit, I don’t remember last time I cried over a movie like this,” Debbie straightened her spine to stretch out throbbing muscles.

Ian winced as the bright light filled up the darkness: “ _Fuck,_ Lip _”_ he rubbed his eyes like a toddler waking up after a sweet catnap.

“Holy shit,” snorted Carl, “Milkovich’s gone soft.”

Everyone looked at Mickey as Carl pointed in his direction. The man had fallen asleep, his head tilted back and lips slightly parted, low snorting sound leaving his throat. But there was also snoozing Franny in his lap. The little girl’s face rested against Mickey’s snuggly chest, his strong arms wrapped around her weak body to hold her in place, not daring to drop the little creature.

“I’m takin’ a picture of this,” warmly giggled Debbie as she snapped few pictures on her phone.

“Send some of ‘em to me,” hummed Ian dreamy, “To tease him later.”

Ian won’t tease Mickey. That was just a stupid excuse to get the photos. Ian will rather save them in a secret folder for his eyes only. Mickey was embracing his niece, she was almost like his own daughter. She was Ian’s family. Ian would hug this beautiful picture close to his beating heart at nights when it would feel like the world was slowly tumbling down. The calmness of the illustrated moment would ground him. Ian would look at the picture and daydream about the little, perfect fantasy family with Mickey, hoping to make the soul-stirring dreams come alive someday.

———

An appetizing aroma brushed against Mickey’s dusted face when the older man pulled open the front door of his shared apartment. It was Friday evening, the end of a tiring week full of heavy lifting and running around. The man couldn’t be more thrilled to step out of the choking sneakers to massage the twitching feet and wash away the sweat wrapping around the athletic bones. 

For the past four weeks or so, Mickey tried to go over to Ian’s brother to help him out with the restoration stuff at his new place. He enjoyed getting his hands and clothes dirty with the paint or white chalk clouds of dust. There was something soothing about drilling screws into the wall to secure the shelves from falling down on the floor, sensing the low vibrations of the roaring machine. Mickey liked the smell of drying light-blue color in Lip baby’s room Tami had chosen, filling his soul with pure satisfaction after the accurate brush strokes. Mickey _loved_ to follow the instructions of the project to build a patio dining table from the scratch; just plain lumber boards in different shapes and sizes from the local sawmill and a sac of stainless steel screws. In the process Mickey got a few splinters stuck behind the skin of his fingertips from the rough surface of the wood before polishing it with harsh sandpaper. He didn’t mind. The dark-haired man fucking loved to create things with his own hands rather than buy expensive shit from the retailers. Who would have thought? It was therapeutic. Mickey looked forward to the days when he would continue his little building tasks.

Sometimes Ian would join them, too. But the taller guy just lounged in the shadows underneath the oak branches in the backyard and sneaked glances in Mickey’s way when he was crouching; focusing on drilling the screw perfectly in its place.

Finally, after twenty-six years of walking and breathing on the planet Earth, Mickey had discovered things about himself that fulfilled his miserable life and made it more bearable. His life was starting to make more sense; a purpose of being alive. A passion that kept him fighting and friends by the side to strengthen the courage.

“Since when are you makin’ fuckin’ dinner,” Mickey spoke out, arms crossed at the chest and leaning against the kitchen counter, watching his younger sister Mandy stir the food on the frying pan.

“Since now, douchebag,” Mandy signed out the answer, “I have an announcement to make.”

“You cookin’ dinner to say you’re pregnant?” mocked the shorter man.

“Fuck you, Mickey,” grumbled the girl, “Go shower, you fuckin’ stink. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, mother.”

Three siblings sat around the round table in their small dining room; a dead lady palm sitting in the corner next to the dark buffet table they had forgotten to water. They rarely used it. They mostly ingested the takeaway meals in front of the TV in the living room, sitting on a slightly dingy couch. 

“What is this all about?” Iggy broke the somehow awkward silence after trying to slash the stuffed chicken breast with the side of the fork.

“Well,” Mandy took a deep breath, “Last week I got this customer from fuckin’ LA, can you believe it? She wanted me to do her make-up for some bougie rich shit event. Turns out she was one of the leading fashion designers who was lookin’ for ‘a young and aspiring’ make-up artists around the city to work on some fuckin’ project involving modeling and photoshoots for fashion magazines or some shit like that.”

“Anyways, she apparently liked what I did to her bitchy face and asked me to visit her Chicago office for an interview and… I got a job in a fuckin’ fashion industry in fuckin’ LA, assholes!”

“Wow, Mands,” whispered Iggy, quite shocked to hear that kind of news. Honestly, it wasn’t what Mickey imagined his sister to share, “I, uh, I mean it’s fuckin’ amazing, yeah.”

“Of course it’s fuckin’ amazing, numbnuts. She got a job in LA. A Milkovich in _un-funking-believable_ LA. Away from this shithole. Did you say yes?”

“Uhh, not yet. I mean, I promised them to give an answer in few days, like, tomorrow. But…”

“But what, Mandy?” Mickey burned in impatience, his hands spit the signs.

“This is why I wanted to have this stupid dinner. To talk about it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to fuckin’ talk about, Mandy,” observed the other brother, “You just can’t dip an opportunity like this. We all know how important that shit is to you. This is what you’ve always wanted to fuckin’ do, right? Style rich asses in Hollywood.”

“But this ain’t just about me, Iggy!” Mandy cried out in frustration, “You guys need me. Mickey, _you_ need me! I just can’t fuckin’ pack my shit and leave like that.”

“Yes, you can,” confirmed Mickey, “And you will. I don’t need you, Mandy. Fuck. I mean, I ain’t gonna hold you back from movin’ up the world. You don’t worry about me, bitch. I can take a fuckin’ care of myself.”

Mandy had done so much to Mickey, she helped him when all the shit went down. Mandy was a selfless person, putting other needs before her. The young lady spent sleepless nights studying for her cosmetology exam and worked the whole day at a shitty run-down diner to get money when Mickey couldn’t. This time, it was time to put herself first. It was time to let her go. This was a chance for his sister to become something; to be happy.

“Go, Mandy,” agreed Iggy, squeezing her soft hand in reassurance, “We know you’re dying to leave. And we understand. We want you to be fuckin’ happy, little sis.”

“But I’m scared shitless,” nervously sung Mandy, her voice sounding so tiny and unfamiliar.

“We’ll beat the crap out of those fuckin’ LA bitches if they mess with the wrong girl,” jokingly said Mickey, this time he didn’t sign just because he wanted Mandy to hear him say it, “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Mandy. And, uh, no matter where you are, we’ll be here for you. Here at home. In the South Side of Chicago.”

Mickey reached over the table to touch his sister’s other palm. The Milkovich siblings sat with their hands connected and smiling at each other in the quiet room, not daring to break the blessed moment. Peace expressed million of unsaid words none of them could reveal out loud. This was how a Milkovich said _I love you_ , they showed love and affection through warm touches and caring eyes. They showed love through actions — that was more than saying the words aloud. A Milkovich shielded their family; always and forever. 

“If we’re going the sappy route, then, uh,” began Iggy after few peaceful minutes of silence, “I guess I have something to say, too, actually.”

“Are _you_ pregnant?”

“Jacquelin is,”

“She’s _what_!?” exclaimed Mandy, practically falling off the dining chair.

“Yeah, we’re having a baby,”

Mickey was gonna be an uncle. _An uncle_. He was feeling weirdly emotional. A sunny glow unraveling the furthest hole in his heart with love and excitement.

“And because of that, I’m also fuckin’ movin’ out of here,” continued the brother, “Need to be there for her and help out with the baby shit and everything.”

“Oh, my God,” squeaked the girl, “We’re having a tiny Milkovich!”

———

Ian had invited Mickey over for the first time at his new home — his apartment. He was so nervous to hang out with the older man, honestly, even though they’ve done it a lot. But this time it would be personal or even intimate. Ian invited him to the place where he’d settled. _His home_. A place where Ian ate, worked, and jerked off.

The redhead obsessively polished up his space — swept the dust away from places he never thought he’d ever seen in his apartment, picked up the dirty laundry on the bathroom floor, vacuumed, and cleaned the hardwood floors with the moist microfibre mop. He even folded the clothes in his closet. That was dumb. He knew. Mickey wouldn’t go there. But still, he made sure everything was flawless.

Oh, one more thing he had forgotten in the middle of a rush.

Ian ordered a Mexican takeaway dinner. He noticed this small detail about Mickey the last time the men hung out at Lip’s — Mickey loved the Mexican rice and chicken quesadillas, he literally ate them in seconds. So Ian will treat his friend the right way, fill his tummy with the meal he treasured the most. That’s what people say, right, food is the best way to the man’s heart?  


Not many minutes later, his long-awaited guest finally arrived. The loud knocks imbued the empty silence. Ian took a sharp breath, swallowed the nerves dancing in his guts, and shot the last look at the reflection in the mirror to smooth down the fuzzy orange hair. It kinda felt like he was going on a date with Mickey, that’s how anxious the younger man was. But it wasn’t a date. No. Just two dudes casually chilling and munching food.   


_Here it goes._

Ian swung open the door too fast, he felt the air make a whoosh sound. Mickey’s hand froze in the middle of the movement, he was ready to knock again to pull Ian out of the jittery thoughts.

“Fuckin’ finally, man,” whined the newcomer.

“Hello to you too, Mickey,” Ian stepped back to let the other man in. 

Before the food arrived, Ian gave a short house tour of his small apartment, which earned a prize from Mickey, calling Ian a clean freak motherfucker. The ginger set up the table with paper plates, utensils, and drinks. He turned on a van Damme move for them to watch. When Mickey’s gaze swiped across the served table in the living room, Ian caught a teeny-tiny grin play on the shorter man’s face. _Jackpot_.

They ate their dinner in quiet. That’s comprehensible. It would be challenging for Mickey to eat and stare at Ian’s full mouth to see what Ian was talking about. The men had the whole night to themselves to exchange the news that had happened in their lives in the past couple of days.

“Mandy’s movin’ away,”

“Got tired of your grumpy ass?” teased Ian.

“Got a job offer in fuckin’ LA,” Mickey ignored the red-haired man’s comment.

“Oh, that’s fucking amazing, Mick,” cheered Ian, “I’m really proud of her. When’s she leaving?”

“In two days,” replied the dark-head, “Took some time to convince her to go. Bitch’s worryin’ about my ass.”

“Of course she worries,” stated Ian, “She’s going across the country leaving you here. She’d been by your side for years, man. But you still have Iggy.”

“Yeah, well, he knocked up his girlfriend and now he’s movin’ out, too.”

“Iggy’s gonna be a father?”

“Unbelievable, huh?” agreed Mickey, “Never thought he’d want to be a fuckin’ dad after the shit with psychotic prick Terry.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be an amazing dad, Mickey.”

Of course, he will be. What the Milkovich kids and the Gallagher kids have seen and done in their lives is a pure example of how different parents they are gonna be. They would never, ever do things to their offsprings what Frank, Monica, or fucking Terry did to them. They would try their best to give the perfect, carefree childhood to their kids, spoiling them with love and kind words to grow into young and successful citizens. 

“I know,” agreed Mickey after a moment, thinking the same thought as Ian did, “It just fuckin’ sucks that I have a huge-ass apartment to myself. It costs too much, though Mandy promised to share her load,” sighed the other man, “It’s gonna be strangely quiet.”

“Hmm,” hummed Ian thoughtfully, “I mean, have you thought about getting a service dog, maybe? Y’know…” the man pointed at Mickey’s ears.

“You can say hard of hearing, man,” lectured the older man.

“Right, sorry.”

“Sure, I have. It’s just, uh, really fuckin’ expensive. My insurance won’t cover half a shit.”

“There are, you know, shelters with dogs you could bring home and train,” suggested Ian, he didn’t want to push Mickey. It was a serious responsibility to own an animal; it was just like a child you needed to take care of every single day even when you didn’t want to leave the bad all day.

“I guess,” shrugged Mickey, “I mean, I’ve always wanted one. Terry wasn’t a father who would give a dog to his son.”

“How about,” Ian folded one leg under his butt and turned around to face Mickey, he stared in those ocean-blue eyes profoundly, “How about we go to a shelter and see what they got, huh? Y’know, you don’t have to, like, get it right away, but, like, look if something catches your interest or whatever.”

“Again with the mumbling, Gallagher,” growled the shorter man, he shook his head disapprovingly, “Stop that shit.”

“Sorry,”

“You’re such a _loser_ ,” Mickey signed the last word, hoping Ian wouldn’t get it. Little did he know…

“Bitch, I got that!” Ian exclaimed triumphantly. The red-head had been learning ASL like crazy, he knew the alphabet from the beginning till the end, now he could move his fingers fluently to from words, “Loser,” he signed back.

“Look at that, Ian’s been learnin',” Mickey observed in flirtatious tone, leaning backward; his dark eyebrows shooting up in amusement. 

Ian’s cheeks turned bright pink. 

“Anyway,” coughed Mickey, “About the shelter thing. We could do it when Mandy leaves. You free on Wednesday?”

“Uh, I can move some things, yeah.”

“Okay, it’s a date, then.”

And now it was Mickey’s turn to blush.

Mickey and Ian were slowly strolling through the hallway with the volunteer girl named Geneva who worked at the shelter. They stopped at every crate to let the dog sniff their hands. Ian’s heart squeezed. He wanted to cuddle with every single doggo, give them treats, throw a tennis ball and scratch their furry bellies. Ian prayed; he prayed to find a loving home with loving parents for all dogs in here. These four-legged buddies deserved tons of kisses and ear rubs. 

“This is Tyrus,” the girl introduced the next dog, “He is a golden retriever puppy, about three months old. He and two other brothers, who were adopted last week, were found in a box abandoned behind the shelter. Probably the previous owners didn’t want them.”

“Oh, my God, look at him,” Ian giggled softly when Tyrus jumped on two legs, his long, fluffy tail wiggling behind, hitting one side of the crate. The little guy wanted to break out of the cage to dive into his lap and lick all over Ian’s freckled face. Tyrus’s chocolate brown eyes were shining in hope of going home.

“Yeah, I like him,” said Mickey, the man nuzzled pupper’s wet, black nose, earning a quick lick on his knuckles.

“It’s too early to tell, but it seems like Tyrus might be frisky and a bit bossy. But he’s still a retriever, meaning he will be the perfect dog for a family with children — loyal, sweet, and easy to train.”

“What do ya think, Mickey?” asked Ian curiously, he tapped his shoulder to the older man’s attention.

“I mean, he’s a cute little shit,” snorted Mickey, “But, like, can I train him to be my service dog? I have a hearing loss.”

“Of course,” twittered the volunteer, “He’s a perfect age to start training simple commands. Once properly trained, golden retrievers make ideal service dogs.”

Ian could see the resemblance between Mickey and Tyrus. They both were super adorable with beautiful eyes and smiles. They were badasses, too. But deep down in hearts, the guys were sweet and caring, loyal, too; always looking after and fighting for people they loved the most. Tyrus was a perfect dog for Mickey.

And truth be told, Ian couldn’t wait any longer to go on walks to puppy parks with Tyrus and play with him on the grass. Gosh, Ian had fallen in love with Tyrus. They’re gonna be the best buddies ever. 

“A’ight,” Mickey exhaled a breath he was holding, “I guess you’re comin’ home with me, then.”

When Mickey carried his new dog into his apartment, the dog started to sniff around; learning and exploring the new surroundings. His new home. Tyrus finally got home. And he had two, well, one fucking amazing dad, who would make his doggo’s life the best life a dog could ever ask for; full of adventures and yummy treats.

“I thought we were just gonna look,” laughed Mickey as he kept the eye on Tyrus, who was running around the couch, trying to decide how to jump on it; his legs were too short to that on his own yet, “Not bring it home already. I don’t even have dog food!”

“When you know you know, you know?”

“The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Ian, “I can look after him when you run to the pet shop.”

“Thanks, man,” replied Mickey, “I have no fuckin’ clue what to get. Does he like toys? What food he needs?” he sounded so frustrated. Ian found it charming. Mickey already loved Tyrus as much as Ian did.

Ian kept sneaking after the retriever, not daring to lose the fragile body. The man opened doors to every room of Mickey’s apartment to show Tyrus around. Ian knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but he even helped Tyrus to climb on the bed he presumed was Mickey’s. The golden ran across the soft duvet, his weirdly huge paws sinking in as if he was walking across the field of quicksand.

Almost an hour later, Mickey kicked open the door; his hands were full with bags of essentials for Tyrus. When the dog heard the loud thud, he ran to Mickey, his triangle ears floppily bouncing with every step. 

“Let me get that,” Ian rushed to Mickey to take some heavy bags.

Mickey had gotten the puppy a red collar with a dog tag shaped as bone and a matching nylon leash. There were also a squeaky duck, yellow tennis ball, and a fluffy rabbit toy; training pads for him to pee on during the night, two bowls, a pack of dog cookies, and, of course, a bag of dry food made especially for golden retriever puppies. 

“Got as much shit as I could carry,” said Mickey after unpacking the bags, “Still need to get him a bed, but I’ll let him sleep with me tonight,” the man turned to face his puppy, “Just tonight, you hear me?”

The rest of the day they all spent together. Mickey tried to figure out the portion Tyrus should eat in a day while Ian washed his bowls clean. They even went for a short walk around the block. Mickey was so cautious with the puppy, holding the leash strongly in his hand — but not too strong — he let Tyrus read the messages on the corner of houses that other dogs had written. 

Tyrus was really exhausted after the day full of surprises. Once they stumbled inside, the dog literally fell asleep by the front door — his legs too heavy to walk even further. 

Ian and Mickey bounced on the couch just like parents after successfully putting their energized toddler to sleep. Now they had some time for themselves to take a calming breath. 

“While Tyrus is asleep,” began Ian nervously, “Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to sign something other than ‘The beef tasted delicious’.”

“Why in the fuck would you learn that?”

“It was on a tutorial video about basic phrases everyone must learn.”

“And look how far you’ve fuckin’ got,” laughed Mickey, “Sure, what do ya wanna know?”

Mickey taught Ian the grammatical structure of ASL. At first, he didn’t understand it, it was completely different from English. Obviously, American Sign Language was a language just like French or Spanish. But Mickey was a good teacher, surprisingly he was quite patient with Ian. Then Mickey showed Ian how to swear in ASL, of course, like ‘bitch’, ‘dumbass’ or ‘cocksucker’. 

“Stop wigglin’ the pinky like that,” Mickey snorted when Ian’s finger wiggled like a worm, his hands were trembling from the nerve knots in his stomach, “It just looks fuckin’ weird.”

Whenever Ian made a mistake, Mickey would touch Ian’s hands to place his fingers the way they should be. It didn’t help. It didn’t help Ian to concentrate when Mickey’s soft skin brushed against his; an electric pinch sending shivers down his spine. His touches were so addictive that Ian purposely fucked up just to get the dosage of Mickey. 

It was getting too hot to breathe. Ian’s face tone matched his hair. He could feel a tension pulling them closer and closer; air getting heavier with the need to feel Mickey against him. To hear Mickey hitched breathing against his ears. To feel his lip on his, sucking and licking the sensitive skin. 

Mickey was going to be the death of him.

_Shit._

“Man, you suck,” the shorter man let out an annoying gasp, “You never gonna learn if you keep fuckin’ up like that. It’s a simple sentence. See?” he repeated the signs to show Ian what his hands were supposed to do. 

“Easy for you to say, Mickey,” Ian barked back.

“Okay,” the dark-haired man clapped his hands, “From now on, you’ll sign and talk at the same time. I don’t care if you make fuckin’ mistakes in every word, but that’s how you’ll get better at this shit.”

“Fuck, fine.”

“Let’s fuckin’ try it again,” said Mickey, he turned back to face Ian, both men were sitting with crossed legs, knees faintly bumping together, “Repeat after me.”

The red-head had secretly learned a phrase with four words, hoping to have an appropriate moment to sign it. Four words that’d change everything between them. Ian felt how nausea tickled his abdomen. His hands getting lifelessly crisp. His heart loudly pounding in his neck. When Mickey repeated the phrase, Ian’s fingers quickly formed a completely different sentence…

“Can I touch you?”

Mickey’s hands froze in the air. The older man glared at Ian slyly, eyes widened in astound. Ian could see how Mickey’s pale skin lit up in bright reddish red color, making him look younger. More vulnerable. Ian quivered under Mickey’s intense stare. He felt naked. Exposed. Everything had stopped. The world had stopped spinning. The sound was vacuumed out. It was just Ian and Mickey’s hearts thumping in rhythmic beat under the narrow chest, trying to break out and collide together as one.

“Yes.” the man signed back after a moment that longed like an eternity.

The taller man inhaled sharply, a massive burden rolling off his tensed shoulders. Mickey said yes. Mickey wanted to feel Ian’s touch. Not casual ‘hold your fingers like this’ touch. But a touch that screamed attraction and lust; a desire to wake up after a bad dream. A touch that brought the two past lovers back together after the infinity of being separated. Two lost souls finding their way back home.

Ian’s shaky hand crawled closer to Mickey’s — his hand was trembling, too, like a gliding autumn leaf. The soft fingertips caressed over Mickey’s back of the hand, feeling the slightly dry and chapped skin. The warm sensation must have aroused the older man, Ian noticed how a suppressed whine left Mickey’s husky throat. The ginger bit the lower lip, feeling a taste of blood on the tongue. Their hands found their ways together in sync — palm against the palm, finger against the finger. Mickey laced them together and rested now the one hand on their knees; the feathery pad of thumb patted Mickey's burning skin. Ian didn’t venture to peak away — afraid to break the bond.

But then Mickey bent forward and reached for Ian’s orange hair strands; his hand disappearing in silky curls. Ian’s eyes closed in pleasure. The man leaned against Mickey’s sweet touch like a purring kitten. His fingertips were kneading Ian’s scalp, massaging the stiff muscles. 

The younger man craved to move closer to Mickey, to maybe peck the sensitive skin under his ear and neck. To make Mickey itch for more; moan in thirst of heavenly bliss. Ian craved to smell and taste Mickey, his sweat mixed up with cologne and detergent. 

To kiss him.

To devour him.

To love him.  


Tyrus yawned noisily, bringing the men out of the trance. Feelings had sparked like firework between them. But somehow Ian felt shy. Or even awkward. He let go of Mickey’s hand stood up, he anxiously scratched the back of his neck, still feeling the sensitive scars of Mickey’s nails. The sultry sensation made Ian feel like he was sixteen again.

“You should go,” the older man whispered quietly.

———

It’s been a week since Ian had last heard from Mickey. A week of no meet-ups. No text messages. No pictures of Tyrus playing with his toys or sleeping on the back and legs up in the air. Nothing.

Ian worried like crazy. He couldn’t live like this. He overstepped. Clearly. Maybe this was too early. Maybe he pushed Mickey too far. Maybe Mickey didn’t want more of him. They were fuck buddies in the past after all.

After leaving the law firm on lukewarm dawn of the beginning of May; the sky was painted in purple and golden clouds, the man went straight to Mickey’s place. He needed to apologize for how selfishly he acted the other day. If he couldn’t have Mickey as his boyfriend, that’s fine. No, it wouldn’t be _fine_. It would be so fucking hard to live and not touch him, not feel him. But Ian’s not gonna risk the friendship with Mickey. Ian needed Micky. Ian needed to have him in the long-lasting journey called life.

When Ian was outside of Mickey’s apartment, he sent a short text to let Mickey know he was here.

**(6:28 PM) Ian** : Are you home? I’m standing in front of your apartment.

**(6:29 PM) Mickey** : unlocked **  
**

As Ian walked into the living room, he saw Mickey sitting on the ground in front of the silent TV; his shoulders rested against the couch. Between the spread legs was sleeping the golden retriever puppy, his soft head resting on Mickey’s tight; sucked into the dreamworld of raining delicious goodies. 

The taller man dropped his leather messenger bag on the ground and slipped down next to Mickey. He kept a few inch distance to avoid the uncomfortable stiffness. The raven-head kept petting the dog's head and ears, not meeting Ian’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” signed Ian after feeling courageous.

Mickey turned his head to Ian’s hand movements.

“I’m sorry,” this time Ian said out loud. He wanted the other man to feel his voice tremble in vibrations. 

“I’m the one that should apologize, Gallagher,” murmured Mickey, “I fuckin’ freaked out.”

“Didn’t mean to push you, Mick.”

“Look, Ian,” his voice was serious, “I… I like you, okay? Always have. But… even if I’m fuckin’ free, out and proud and shit, I need some fuckin’ time, alright? It’s not that easy.”

“Of, course,” assured Ian, he squeezed Mickey’s shoulder in reassurance, “I like you, too, Mickey. So I’ll wait. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. And I’m not gonna leave you alone, you can count on that."

Mickey simply nodded and turned back his attention to sleeping, Tyrus. Ian sat by Mickey’s side — his knees pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around the legs and his chin rested on the forearm — not saying a word. But it felt good no to talk. Just be there for him.

“Even though I’ve tried to escape the past, it’s still fuckin’ there,” the shorter man broke the silence, his stare gazing over the grimed window on the wall in from of them, “Still hauntin’ me and pullin’ me back every day. I fuckin’ hate it, man.”

_Ten years ago, a day when Mickey slid a note into Ian’s locker through the tiny hole telling him to meet him at the dugouts before midnight, was a night that changed everything._

_Ian was a boy that awoke feelings Mickey thought he never had. Feelings of love and need. Mickey cared about Ian. Mickey liked Ian even if it meant broken ribs and a bleeding nose. Ian was a ray of shine that kept the teenage Mickey hoping to get out of the claws of his father._

_But sometimes Mickey wasn’t careful enough. The oxytocin pulsing through the veins darkened his mind; he couldn’t think straight. And it put him in danger._

_When Mickey had sex with Ian for the first time in the locker room, he became obsessed with the ginger. Truth be told he always was. Mickey teased him in hallways on the highschool and on streets in Canaryville calling Ian an alien-looking carrot top whenever their paths crossed, just because he liked him. He had a crush on him. And by making fun of him, he tried to push Ian away. Mickey was scared of having feelings for a boy._

_The South Side thug never visited the library in the school, but he went there only once. He found a yearbook and tore out the page with Ian’s portrait in it. Mickey wanted to have a picture of him — he wanted to stare at those green eyes and count every single freckle on his forehead, eyelids, and jaw, he wanted to brush his fingers over the velvet lips, dreaming to feel them against his. The small picture helped Mickey fall asleep at night and release the frustration build by horny hormones._

_One day he carelessly left the picture on the bed after jerking off. And it was the same moment when Terry walked into his bedroom…_

_… Mickey was crying in pain after running away from his father’s fists. Everything hurt, including his heart. That night Mickey couldn’t face Ian, he just couldn’t let him see the bloody face._

_When he broke Ian’s heart at the dugouts, Mickey felt how knives slashed open his insides. But that was the right thing to do — Mickey protected the boy he loved from his father. He didn’t want Ian to suffer because of him. But he also didn’t want to suffer himself._

_Four years flash-forward, Mickey made the same mistake of being careless again. It was an August night and he was so fucking horny. The hand and porn didn’t help and neither the girls he fucked to mask away from the gayness. Mickey bent down a twink behind the Fairy Tail in the dark alley to empty his balls. In the morning when he walked back home, he saw Terry and one of his right-hand man bitch standing in the living room. The last thing he remembered was screams and sharp pain in the head. Terry pistol-whipped him, that’s what Iggy said._

_Iggy and Mandy, after learning their brother was gay, snitched on Terry which earned a long-ass lock-up in the can. Milkoviches don’t snitch, but their brother’s life was more important than that._

_At first, Mickey was fine, nothing but a dull ache in the burst temple. He felt normal. But as time went by, he noticed how slowly he lost the ability to hear. First, he couldn’t hear the birds singing outside the yard. Then it was hard to hear the TV without turning it up louder. But then Mickey couldn’t hear people calling his name. That’s when Mandy and Iggy got worried._

_His sibling brought him to the local clinic for a check-up. Mickey was diagnosed with moderate hearing loss caused by the brain injury his fucking dad gave him. Mickey was only twenty years old. And his life was fucked up._

_Mickey had a shitty job with no health insurance. He couldn’t even afford the hearing aid to help him at least hear a bit. The man didn’t hear conversations, music nor voices. Nothing. Then Iggy found a two-bedroom apartment away from the home. It wasn’t great or anything, but they couldn’t stay at the Milkovich residence any longer. So they gathered up every cent they had saved and brought their first apartment. The first step to the new beginning. Hopefully, a better one._

_Then Mandy found out about the group meetings for the deaf and people with hearing loss. He didn’t want to go, but he had no choice, he had to. The man slowly learned American Sign Language, which made his life so much easier. Mickey met inspiring people who gave him the strength to keep crawling through the shitty swamp. Mickey finally started to accept his disability, becoming confident and stronger than ever. His view to the world changed._

_By the time he celebrated his twenty-sixth birthday, Mickey had got his GED. It helped him to find a job as mall security with insurance that covered a hearing aid. After years of not hearing, he finally heard his sister's and brother’s voice. He literally teared up. Their voices were still fuzzy and far, but at least he heard when they called him. He heard loud noises like dogs barking and the traffic. Mickey heard his own voice a bit._

_And then he met Ian._

_The fire-crotch made his days better and put a silly smile on his lips when he went to sleep. Ian had given Mickey a reason to live. He loved him so much it hurt. He had missed him every time he took a breath. Ten years apart was a lot. And Mickey hated not having Ian. But he was so scared to let him back in his life, images from the past flooding up._

_Mickey will try._

_He will try to let go of the hurt and open up the door to the future._

_With Ian by his side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!
> 
> Oh, and the italics at the end was Mickey telling Ian about the past, dressed into a form of a flashback. Just to make sure ;D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Sorry for the short chapter, but I literally don't have time to write more. Consider this as part one.  
> Enjoy! :)

The amazing feeling of scribbling down the signature on paperwork for buying a car made Ian tear proudly how far he had come. Ian had saved enough money to finally get his first car; the man could afford to pay a monthly payment of four hundred and fifty dollars. Though it took some time for him to decide and say farewells to the gym subscription to have emergency money savings in the bank account just in case shit go wrong. There were millions of alternatives for the ginger to keep his body healthy and toned. 

Walking through the dealership, his sight landed on a pearl white Toyota crossover SUV. The vehicle literally shone in the middle of the field calling his name. This car was slightly used, but Ian didn’t complain — it meant it was gonna be cheaper than a brand new one. When his spine touched the leathered driver seat, his shoulders instantly relaxed and his feet ached to reach towards the accelerator pedal to rev up the buzzing engine and speed away to the busy city streets. 

As the salesman handed over the key fob and firmly shook his hand for a successful deal and wished him good luck, Ian rushed through the glass door of the building to his new property. Ian rolled down the windows to let in the warm air, connected his phone to the CarPlay to blast his favorite songs through the loud speakers, and slowly backed out of the parking spot. Ian smiled so much his jaw hurt. Adrenaline rushing through the skin, making his hands shake in excitement. 

The drive back was pleasantly satisfying. The air breeze fluttered and messed the red, gelled hair into a messy mop. His right elbow leisurely rested against the side door, palm hugging the top of the steering wheel. Ian found it quite gratifying to drive with only one hand; he felt like he was in control. More dangerous, yet calming. 

No more L train. No more strangers pushing into his body. No more homeless people sleeping on the bench. Ian was free to go everywhere at any time. Whenever his heart desired.

Before heading home, Ian stopped outside the Gallagher house to show the new ride. He even took Liam for a ride who was super excited to drive past the speed limit on Wallace street, earning giggles from his younger brother. Now Ian could help out his siblings when they needed a lift to somewhere. The man will always look after his siblings, helping them whenever they needed something. Always.

But there was one more thing that Ian had always dreamed to do. He dreamed to drive through the city of Chicago at night, blinding street lights passing by like rays of stars. Ian wanted to wheel through the empty and quiet streets when everyone else was sleeping. 

Without thinking the young man, an hour away from the moment the clock ticked past midnight, pulled in front of Mickey’s apartment building. It might be stupid considering how late it was and there was a chance the other man had gone to the bed already. But Ian sat in the dark car, a soft sound of the radio filling the atmosphere, and looked out of the windshield trying to find Mickey’s window. 

He took his phone from the cup holder between the front seats and pressed on the contact list to find Mickey’s name. He didn’t need much time to find it because he was on top of the screen. 

**(11:04 PM) Ian** : Hey, you up?

**(11:05 PM) Mickey** : bout to go to bed. what’s up?

**(11:05 PM) Ian** : I’m outside the building. 

**(11:06 PM) Mickey** : what the fuck, you alright?

**(11:06 PM) Ian** : Sure, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine. Another time then.

**(11:07 PM) Mickey** : hold your ass i’m coming

After five minutes Mickey stepped out of the building, on the end of the leash was the sleepy retriever. The dog sniffed near the entrance and squatted to do his business before the long night. Mickey also looked tired, dressed in dark grey jersey shorts and a plaid shirt wrapped around the worn-out T-shirt. 

Ian climbed out of the car to get the dark-heads attention. Mickey gazed around to find Ian on the street, but then his blue eyes stopped at the younger man, who was leaning against the side of the vehicle, crossed arms rested on the chest. Mickey slightly pulled Tyrus to let him know it was time to move and walked towards Ian. 

When Tyrus’s big, brown eyes found Ian, his yellow body started to wiggle in enthusiasm, and ran to the redhead first, racing past his dad. 

“Hi, buddy,” Ian greeted the puppy in a gentle baby voice and kneeled down to rub his fluffy cheeks and ears, “Oh, I missed you so much. Did you miss me, too?” Tyrus let out a bark and licked Ian’s face with the soft tongue in response, “Good boy, yeah. You’re such a good boy.”

“Alright, Tyrus,” Mickey sighed, hoping to calm down the overwhelmed dog, “That’s enough.”

“He just misses his best friend,” Ian looked up at Mickey and tried to sign his words in sign language. The deal was still on; Ian signed every time he spoke, even though he made some shitty mistakes. Then the taller man turned back to puppy one last time and squeaked, “Am I right, Tyrus?” 

Bark.

“I know, I know. I love you too, little guy,” Ian pressed a kiss on the dog’s head and stood up, feeling his legs get crampy, “Hi.”

“Hey,” signed Mickey back with one hand, “The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“I, uh,” Ian turned around and pointed at his white car, “I got a car today.”

“You mean, stole it?”

“Yeah, broke into the dealership and beat the guy till he gave the fuckin’ keys,” Ian replied sarcastically.

“Now you’re talking my language, Gallagher.”

A tender belly laugh slipped out of Ian’s soft lips. God, how much he loved the man in front of him. Ian glared at Mickey’s face with heart-eyes, glowing in the darkness like emeralds. He caught a glimpse of the shorter man’s shoulders bounce in silent puffs. 

“Anyways,” Ian murmured after breaking the stare with Mickey’s ocean eyes, “I was thinking, we could, uh, go for a ride? Y’konw?” he stammered hesitantly, his long fingers playing with the thread of his sweater, “It’s kinda late, but, uh, wanna join me?”

“Nervous bitch,” observed Mickey, his mouth pulling into a tiny smirk.

Ian always talked more and quicker when he was feeling agitated. And it mostly happened around Mickey. 

Mickey made Ian nervous. 

“I mean,” continued the dark-head, “I don’t want to leave Tyrus alone, man.”

“Mick, he can come with us.”

“You sure?” asked Mickey, “He is kinda furry motherfucker. You’ll find his fur fuckin’ everywhere.”

“Don’t care,” Ian opened the backseat door to invite the puppy inside. His ears were folded in perfect triangles, curious about hearing his name said out loud by his dad, “Come on, jump in!”

And Mickey helped the tiny legs to crawl inside. A sniffing sound left the dog’s nose from learning the change of scenery. Then Ian shuffled around the hood and slipped into the driver’s seat as Mickey opened up the passenger doors. He pressed the ‘start, stop’ button to bring the machine alive, blue dashboard lights illuminating the space around. 

“I really fuckin’ hope I won’t end up in hospital after this, Gallagher.”

“Oh, prepare to be taken on the _best_ car ride you’ve ever had, Mick,” bragged the ginger about his driving skills as he put the car in gear, “But first, buckle up. Just in case I decide to show off my secret tricks.”

Ian idly cruised down the main street of the downtown, the shadows of skyscrapers reflecting on the toned windows. Only a few other drivers passed by, blinding him with bright headlights. When he rolled to the red light, stopping completely, the redhead sneaked a glance at Mickey’s side profile. He was beautiful. Ian’s eyes slid over Mickey’s forehead, arched nose, and full lips. He could see the tips of dark blond stubble growing out of the silky skin. Ian’s hand ached to reach out to glide over it, feeling the tickly roughness underneath the fingertips. He wanted to touch all over Mickey’s face to feel the long eyelashes, to feel the tiny scars left from acne, to feel the soft wrinkles around his eyes when the man smiled. Ian wanted to lean in to smell the vague scent of the night shower behind his ears and neck — a scent of shampoo and sweats.  


Mickey was the most beautiful man Ian had ever laid an eye on. He could look at the masterpiece for eternity and never get enough. Ian could never have enough of Mickey.

Tyrus who slowly clambered to the front pulled Ian out of his daydreaming thoughts. 

“Whoa,” Ian stretched his arm to hold the puppy in place, not daring to tumble backward, “Where are you going?”

The deep-pitched sound raised the awareness to Mickey as the man turned his head to see what was happening — Tyrus tiptoed on his lap. Apparently, he got bored alone in the back, the dog wanted to be close to his favorite humans.

“Fuuck,” groaned the older when the dog’s heavy paw sunk into his crotch, “That hurt, T.”

Ian giggled, he almost felt the pain himself, it made him shudder. The driver opened up the window halfway on Mickey’s side to give some fun to the dull puppy. He pushed his blonde head outside, a big smile pulling on the dog’s lips as the wind brushed past. Mickey’s secure hands were holding the dog against his body.

After circling around the town for twenty minutes, Ian spied with the corner of an eye a glowing _In’n’out_ neon sign in the distance. The man hadn’t had time to sit down and eat dinner this evening, so his stomach gurgled in starvation. 

Ian slowly pulled to the line of a drive-through; two cars in front of them. They had a few minutes to read through the menu and decide what to order.

“What are you gonna take?” asked Ian.

“Dunno,” shrugged the older man, “Whatever, just order something.”

So Ian placed an order of two hamburgers and fries and two chocolate shakes for a sweet tooth. As he clenched and lifted his butt to pull out the wallet of the pocket of the tight jeans, Mickey’s hand stopped him in the middle of the action. The older man leaned over Ian and handed the cashier his credit card to pay for the late-night meal.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you paid for my drinks,” said Mickey as the women in the booth gave back his card, “Now I pay for the food.”

“Two hamburgers with fries and chocolate shakes,” said the women giving Ian his order, “Have a nice evening, sir!”

“Thanks, you too,” replied Ian and put the paper bags onto Mickey’s lap. A greasy smell of grilled meat and melted cheese filled the car. The dog who was now back in his place whimpered in anticipation.

The redhead drove around the restaurant to find a free parking spot to stop and enjoy the junk food. He flickered on the interior lights above their heads and divided the meal with the man next to him.

They didn’t say much, both focusing on the burgers and how delicious they tasted. Ian laughed when a drop of mayonnaise fell on Mickey’s chin or lettuce on his lap. Mickey was such a messy eater when it came to sandwiches, struggling to open up the mouth for the huge bites.

Tyrus kept licking and whining in the backseat, drools falling from the black corners of his lips like rain. Ian felt sorry for the forgotten little buddy. He pealed a piece of the warm bun and tossed it to the golden retriever who grabbed it out of Ian’s fingers in hunger. Ian had read that retrievers were always starving; always begging for snacks and eating like hungry wolves.

“I fuckin’ saw that, man,” protested Mickey, “Don’t give him this shit. He ate his dinner before you texted me.”

“Alright, sorry.”

But Ian didn’t listen to him. The man kept plucking tiny, tiny pieces of the bread and secretly sneaked them back through the narrow space between the door and the seat. Tyrus licked his fingers wet, trying to taste everything of the food. 

This was a perfect ending of the day full of surprises, together with Ian’s best friends. 

“Sneaky bastard,” whispered Mickey.

———

**(11:21 AM) Lip** : it’s May 9th

**(11:22 AM) Mickey** : and?

**(11:22 AM) Lip** : it's Ian’s birthday, dumbass.

Mickey was strolling through the mall in his uniform when Lip had texted him about Ian’s birthday. He knew it was in the spring but didn’t know exactly when. This was something new to him. He didn’t celebrate the day you moved one footstep closer to the end. Well, he did. With his siblings — with Mandy and Iggy. They usually got high and drank a beer or some shit. Mickey had never had a friend to do this stuff with. But now he had Ian. Does he do all the birthday celebrations? Does he want to have a big party somewhere in the club and drink and dance the night away? Or just eat a cake with the Gallaghers?

Mickey had no idea.

The raven-head sat on the wooden bench in the seating area in the middle of the hallway for lazy fucks to rest their tired feet. He pulled his phone out of the khaki shorts and looked for Ian’s name. It wasn’t too difficult to find it. He only had four other phone numbers saved. Pathetic. 

**(11:27 AM) Mickey** : hey, happy birthday motherfucker

That’s enough, right? Mickey’s blue eyes were glued on the screen waiting for Ian’s response. He waited for a few minutes before heading back to work duies to look if people didn’t do the stealing. Ian was probably busy with the law shit and everything. 

**(11:39 AM) Ian** : Hey. Thanks, Mick.

**(11:39 AM) Ian** : Wanna come hang out later? 

Okay. Mickey just got his first fucking birthday party invitation. That definitely didn’t make his skin hot.

**(11:40 AM) Mickey** : sure. when man?

**(11:41 AM) Ian** : How about 8? I’ll be back from the home.

**(11:41 AM) Mickey** : ok, i’ll be there

Mickey exhaled a held breath. _Fuck_. What now? Then he remembered there was a store with all kinds of stupid gifts and craps on the east wing. He had to get him something. Mickey wanted to see Ian smile because Mickey had put his heart and thought into a gift. Mickey loved Ian’s crooked smile a lot. Just thinking about it made his tummy tingle with nervous flying butterflies.

When the clock hit eight in the evening, Mickey was standing in front of Ian’s apartment. His hands were full — a gift bag in his left palm and the dog leash in the right one. Mickey managed to dress up a little nicer than usual. He even spritzed a tiny dot of cologne on his neck to smell better. He wanted to look handsome to Ian. The man took Tyrus with him because he didn’t want to leave him alone in the dark night. Who knew when he’d come back. Mickey kicked Ian’s door with the boot to let the man know he had arrived.

“Hi,” Ian opened the door, he stepped back to let the guests come in, “Come in.”

The puppy sprinted inside, pulling Mickey hard, he tripped over himself and almost, _almost_ landed on the ass. How awkward. Mickey straightened his spine and swallowed the embarrassment of his sudden clumsiness. 

But his gaze caught Ian’s eyes slide over his attractive body. The taller man shamelessly checked him out. That made Mickey blush even more — his cheeks painted in bright red color, similar to Ian’s beautiful hair. Man, Ian was looking like an accent Greek statue. He was perfect. Thick, muscular abs beaming underneath the well-fitted T-shirt, making Mickey’s mouth water; the shorter boy bit the bottom lip imagining how he would savor Ian’s belly littered in ginger hairs with his silky fingers and tongue. His auburn hair curled near the temples and a single strand hovering above his forehead from the steamy shower Ian had taken before. The sweet and masculine scent whirling around his body made Mickey’s knees go weak. Ian’s emerald green eyes were literally undressing Mickey in front of him, and the thought of Ian being naked, displaying all the goods for Mickey, made his dick twitch in interest. 

“Uhh,” Mickey cleared his throat to halt Ian’s intimate stare, “I, uh, got you some shit,” the shorter man handed him the paper bag with the gifts he found on the mall during the working hours. Mickey gazed around Ian’s apartment; looking everywhere else except Ian.

Ian sat on the couch and poured out the things Mickey had got him on the surface of the coffee table. The ginger laughed loudly. Mickey could feel the deep pulsing vibration coming from his side and Mickey’s stomach tied into thousands of blushing knots. Mickey would give away anything to hear his voice again — loud and clear. He remembers how Ian sounded when he was just a kid, but puberty had given him a fucking serious improvements. _Did the puberty treat his junk the right way, too?_

“Are you trying to tell me something, Mickey?” asked Ian after inspecting his gifts — a six-pack of beer, Mickey’s most cherished, a box of invisible condoms, five black pens with offensive names graved along the sides, and Mickey’s favorite - a natures dick pics calendar. There were other knick-knacks such as an air freshener for his new car, random stick deodorant, and a pack of sugar candies called ‘Crazy Pills’. Mickey was actually quite satisfied with his foundings. It was his first time buying a birthday gift for someone after all. 

“Yeah you’re an annoying dick,” jokingly said Mickey, smirking at Ian’s pure reaction, “And you fuckin’ stink, too.”

“How sweet of you, man,” teased Ian, “No, but seriously, this is fucking awesome. Thanks, Mickey. I’m gonna nail this calendar on the kitchen wall,” said Ian proudly. The younger man stood up, still holding his nature dick pics calendar, “I’ve got a cheesecake, Eric baked it. You want some?”

“Who’s Eric?” he somehow felt how jealousy filled his bones. He shouldn’t be jealous. Ian was just his friend. Yeah, they had a moment, but that was it. They weren't together as a couple. Ian was allowed to bang other dudes if he wanted as much as it’d hurt Mickey.

“Relax,” Ian grinned, catching the sudden change in Mickey’s voice and mood, “He’s my co-worker. Eric and Sue are the only bearable people I’ve befriended at the firm.”

“Oh,” just because Ian was gay didn’t mean he fucked every guy he talked to. _Stupid_ , “Yeah, sure.”

As the other man disappeared behind the wall that divided the living room from the small kitchen, Mickey slouched again the back of the crunch. Jesus, Ian’s gonna drive Mickey crazy. He already had actually. Now, almost every morning Mickey wakes up with an uncomfortable hard-on brushing against the sharp underwear. He has damn sex dreams about Ian just like a fucking teenager. 

Mickey opened up the two bottles of beer for them to sip. The man needed to fight the naughty thoughts playing in his mind. This wasn’t the best place to get hard when Ian was just a few feet away.

Ian brought two plates with a piece of cakes on them. It looked quite luscious. Mickey looked around the room to see where his dog had gone. He hadn’t seen him since he bragged inside. 

“Hey, was T with you in the kitchen?” 

The kitchen was Tyrus’s most beloved place in the whole world. When the dog heard Mickey rattle the forks or open the fridge, he appeared like a lightning bolt, scratching his leg with the paw to beg Mickey to give a slice of meat. The little motherfucker fucking liked to eat without stopping. 

“Uh, no, he wasn’t.”

The men went looking around the apartment to find the atypically quiet puppy. Mickey walked into Ian’s bedroom, while Ian went to the bathroom. And there he was, now sleeping on the pillows on Ian’s mushy bed. What the hell? Across the bedroom floor were chaotically laying pairs of Ian’s sneakers, casual loafers, and dress shoes, socks, and shirts.

“Ian,” the man called him.

“Yeah,” Ian poked his shoulder to let Mickey know he was next to him.

“Was your room this messy all the fuckin’ time?”

Ian’s eyes slid over the floor: “Uh, no.”

“Fuck, I’m real fuckin’ sorry, man,” apologized Mickey as he kneeled down to pick up the chewed Nike running shoe. One pair destroyed by the little shoe gangster. Thank God Tyrus ruined only one shoe, he would go bankrupt buying them all back.

“It’s fine,” Ian calmed the stressed Mickey, his strong arm cupped his left shoulder, “It’s just shoes. I don’t care. And look, he’s sleeping on my bed. Aw, how cute.”

They let Tyrus snore in the bed. Ian and Mickey headed back to the living room to eat the cake. Mickey handed the redhead a glass bottle, but he dodged it.

“Come on, man. It’s just one beer.”

“I get trashed after one beer. Trust me, you don’t want to fucking see.”

“Since when a Gallagher would turn down a free fuckin’ drink?”

“Since my bipolar meds,” replied Ian, “Makes my blood toxic as fuck.”

“A’ight,” shrugged the older man, “I guess that’s all for me then.”

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” Ian began nervously.

“Shoot,”

“Next weekend we’re going to Fiona’s to Madison. I was thinking, maybe you would want to join us for some road trip?”

Mickey’s mouth froze around the rim of the bottle. This was the second time Ian asked him to hang out with his family. Ian shared with Mickey every vulnerable and personal aspect of his life — his family. Ian loved his family the most, Mickey could see that in his eyes. Truth be told, Mickey was so fucking scared. He swore Ian could hear his loud heartbeats behind his ribs. The older man didn’t want to be a douche around Ian’s family. He tried so hard to be nice and everything. But they accepted him. He acceded Mickey into the Gallagher clan. He even befriended Lip. That felt fucking fantastic to be cared for by others than just Mandy or Iggy. 

If Ian wanted Mickey to visit his older sister, then, yeah, of course, he will fucking go.

“Why not, got nothing else to fuckin’ do.”

“Tyrus,” Mickey hollered a few hours later, ready to go back home. The man managed to watch a movie and as Mickey promised, he drank every drop of the six-pack. He was feeling tipsy and giggly, “Let’s go home, buddy.”

“I’m not gonna let you go home like this,” Ian stood in front of the door, blocking the shorter guy’s way, “Sleep it off.”

“But-“

“No buts, stay,” insisted Ian, “I’ll make you the bed on the couch.”

“Where’s gonna stay my dog?”

“He’ll sleep with me,” laughed Ian at the obvious question.

“Oh, lucky he,” slurred Mickey, “I wish I could be a fuckin’ dog right now.”

Ian blushed. What did he just say? Mickey already forgot, his head cloudy from the beverages.

———

“Everything’s packed and loaded,” Ian put the bags of his sibling in the massive trunk. Carl, Debbie, Liam, and Franny were with Ian and Lip with Freddy took Tami’s lady car. The man couldn’t be more excited to see Fiona after a year. His older sister invited them all to Finn’s one-year birthday. Finally, Ian’s gonna meet the little nephew of his. 

The man checked his watch. Mickey should be here any minute. He texted Ian after leaving Tyrus at Iggy’s. Man, Ian imagined how tough it was to part for two days. Mickey loved his dog with his whole soul, a beautiful attachment bonding them together.

“Sorry, I’m late,” wheezed Mickey, his cheeks pink from hurrying.

“Hi, it’s okay,” said Ian, “Wouldn’t go without you. Give me your bag.”

He put Mickey’s backpack with sleeping clothes in the back and pressed the button to close the trunk door automatically.

“Okay, Gallaghers in the back and Mickey, you up in the front,” commanded the taller man and clapped his hands, “Let’s roll.”

It was three hours long drive to Madison, Wisconsin. Excitement buzzed in the car. Everyone was dying to meet Fiona and Jimmy. As Lip pulled out of the driveway with the tiny, red car, Ian followed him behind because Lip knew the road. This was also gonna be the first time him leaving the borders of Illinois. Ian was super thrilled.

“No, Franny,” scolded Debbie the girl who was sitting on her lap in the backseat. They were almost an hour away from the city of Madison, “You just can’t sit on someone’s lap in the front seat. It’s dangerous.”

“What’s happening,” asked Mickey when he saw Ian’s eyes staring back through the rear-view mirror.

“Franny wants to sit on your lap,” Ian signed with the free hand.

“Uh, maybe I could switch with Debbie,” suggested the dark-head, “She must be fuckin’ tired from holding her.”

“Yeah, we could stop,” joined Carl, “I need to take a leak.”

“Me, too,” said Liam who was squeezed in the middle.

“Fine,” agreed Ian, “Gonna stop at the next gas station.”

Ian ringed Lip to tell him about the pit stop. Maybe he needed a cup of coffee as well.

The house Fiona was living in was magnificent. It was a family house with a white picket fence and huge backyard and a garage. A typical American dream house. Fiona had settled on the quiet neighborhood outside the busy city. Ian was so happy for his sister. She finally got her own house and her own little family. She was happy.

The woman and her husband, Jimmy’s hand was wrapped around her petite waist, were standing on the porch as Ian and Lip parked their cars on the driveway. They waved them energetically, welcoming her siblings to their place. Ian vowed he could see his sister cry.

Liam practically pushed Carl out of the car once it came to stop and rushed to Fiona to hug her tightly. Ian felt heartwarming tears shape in his eyes, blurring the sight of his surroundings. 

“You okay, Ian?” Mickey shook Ian’s arm, his hand was still on the gear stick after putting it on ‘park’.

“Mhm,” hummed the red-haired man, he was so fucking glad to have Mickey by his side, “Just so fucking happy to finally see Fiona. God, I missed her so much,” the man wiped the teardrops off his creamy eyelashes.

“Then let’s go and say hello,” Mickey cupped and squeezed comforting Ian’s freckled hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked it. Big things are happening in the next chapter, so hold on!
> 
> I feel like I should explain some things. Whenever Ian is around Mickey he always tries to sign and Mickey signs back, too to help Ian learn and get better at ASL. And when Mickey's around people who can hear, he usually uses his vocals to speak, not hands. But when he's around other deaf people, he just uses the sign language. 
> 
> Also, I can't express how happy I am seeing every hit, kudo and subscription you leave. It's not a lot, but it is to me. It means the world to me and motivates me to keep writing even though I have no time. Writing helps me to escape the reality and rewind after stressful days. So thank you for reading!! :')
> 
> Stay safe and healthy! See you the next week.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating for the chapter - explicit, sexual content ahead.

Ian felt like he was home. Back home when everyone was together. All six brothers and sisters under one rusted roof, sharing rooms and beds like little kids. He thought of the days when they ate fluffy pancakes — on paycheck days they even fried some chunks of greasy bacon and poured the glasses with sour orange juice — while Fiona folded the paper bags with leftover sandwiches for kids to chew on lunch break at school. He remembered the late nights of Fridays when Fiona turned up the music on speakers and let loose for dance, dancing like no one else was around to witness the awkward body rolls and jumps. Or the hot days of July heatwave in Chicago when the boys mounted the ground pool and stole the water from the street hydrant. They dived into the cool water, washing away the sweats and splashed the water-droplets all over their faces, burning the eyes. 

The redhead felt like he had stepped into a secret time machine no one else had the chance to discover and traveled back in time when they were struggling to scrabble the last pennies to pay the gas bill or trying to find Frank drunk and passed out under the L train tracks in cold winter nights. He was back in the living room, back on the scruffy green couch.

Back in the past together with the craziest and dysfunctional family Ian loved so, so much. 

But then the bittersweet truth stung like a bee in the neck; they all are growing up. Getting older. And as much as they treasured and cared for each other — they are slowly pulling apart. Everyone is building a future of their own.

Fiona’s son Finn took a sweet nap, getting enough energy in his small bones to meet the curious uncles and aunts. In the meantime, the Gallaghers, Mickey, and Jimmy dined the delicious lunch in the dining room, the rays of sun lighting the room with pleasantly sunny warmth. Fiona had cooked some amazing dishes. Ian kept reaching over the wooden tabletop to fill up his plate with quinoa salad; he swore he almost consumed the whole bowl. His sister had always known how to prepare mouth-watering meals. Even when she fixed the pre-made Mac and cheese from a cheap grocery store or baked a plate of the chocolate chip cookies of pre-made dough. Fiona sprinkled it with the secret ingredient — love for her younger siblings. It was love that made the shitty food taste better and more bearable; like the most expensive dish on a menu of a fancy restaurant. 

The siblings talked about the married couple. Fiona shared the insight of her freshly landed management work. Ian could see how her dark eyes glowed in excitement. Jimmy told about his insane days at the hospital as a primary care doctor; not the best place nor time to share disgusting patient stories, though. But even through the fucked up history Fiona and Jimmy shared, all the break-ups and make-ups, they both ended up marrying each other. Husband and wife.

In some ways, it reminded Ian about him and Mickey. They didn’t have ups and downs like Fiona and Jimmy; after every fight, they found each other over and over again. But they had planted a promising seed in their bodies. Tiny pieces that kept beating in one rhythm. Almost like two magnets — two poles — pulling forcefully closer to bring two lost souls back together.

Mickey completed Ian.

Ian completed Mickey.

Mickey was quietly sitting beside Ian and sipped on sparkly soda. Fiona, before grabbing forks and knives, told her guests about her no-alcoholic-drinks-at-home policy; it earned low groans and murmurs from younger siblings, they were used to holding a beer bottle between their fingers on family gatherings. And indeed it was so unlike Fiona, but they’ve changed after all. The ginger poked Mickey in tight or lightly kicked his feet under the table to ease the older man’s tensed muscles. Even though Mickey was welcomed kindly by the house owners, Fiona hugged him tightly and Jimmy shook his hand. The older woman even started a short conversation with Mickey to get to know him better. Ian felt he couldn't lessen up. 

When it was time for the big boy Finn to wake up from the daydream nuzzling upstairs, Ian was nervously excited. The man couldn’t stop his hands shaking from wanting to take his nephew into his arms and hold him close to his chest. The memories of the day Lip brought Freddie back from the hospital to show off the newborn baby or Debbie returning back home with Franny in her lap still sent down the shivers down Ian’s spine. The feeling of being an uncle was indescribable. A tearful lump dared to squeeze through his throat, making him sob happy tears down the pale cheek. 

Finn was fragile. Like a thin glass easily shattered. He was a beautiful toddler. Brown curly hair messily falling over his brightly shining chestnut brown eyes. His dark and long eyelashes made his soft skin look pale. Ian could see how two little white teeth were starting to grow. Just like a bunny. A bunny. That’s was Ian’s nickname for Finn. _His little bunny._

“Hi. Hi,” squeaked Ian in a baby voice, he bounced the toddler in his arms, smiling and looking back at him as the brown eyes inspected the orange freckles spread over his face, “I’m Ian. I’m your uncle, Finn.”

“Da-da,” babbled the one-year-old, he put his teeny tiny warm hands on Ian’s stubbled jaw. The red-head was so close to tearing. His white smile plastered all over his blushed face.

“That was his first word?” cried out Debbie.

“No,” chuckled Fiona as she snapped a picture of her brother and son, “It was ma-ma, actually. Last week he said dad for the first time."

Finn kicked Ian in his stomach, telling him to put him on the ground. The toddler was really occupied, he had a lot of guests to greet and entertain. So the joyous uncle let him go, not wanting to delay him. All of Ian’s siblings sat in a circle on colorful cushions on the carpeted floor in front of the fireplace in Fiona’s spacious living room. Finn leisurely crawled to Debbie next, giggling and pulling the long, silky auburn hair he found fascinating. But seeing Franny cross her arms and pout as a duckling made Ian’s heart sunk. She felt envious of witnessing her mother giving kisses on the tip of Finn’s nose. _The young Gallagher badass princes._

The ginger took a photo of everyone in the room to remember his sweet first meeting. To remember this moment forever and maybe even show pictures to Finn when Ian would be old and grey, teasing him about his cute, little bunny teeth. 

“So, you and Mickey?” asked Fiona curiously when they got time to share a private word. Ian had found a peaceful place to perch down and think for a second — outside on the porch swing. The snuggly evening breeze brushed against his exposed skin. And the sky was slowly painting into pastel pink and purple tones, making his hair stand out more orangey.

“We’re just friends,” Ian lightly rocked back and forth.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We, uh, had a moment, and… I don’t want to push him or anything, you know. I finally got him back in my life after all this time and I’m not gonna risk a chance of losing him all over again, just because I want to fucking make him mine.” confessed Ian. The man loved to have long frank talks with Fiona. She always listened. Sure, she sometimes gave shitty advice, but it felt good to get something off the concerning chest and breath out with a calmness. 

“He’s changed,” continued Ian’s sister, “I remember this sad and scared boy in the back of the yards. And now, I’m happy for him. For getting the fuck out and doing something other than stealing and burning shit down. Oh, remember when Mrs. Roger panicked every time Mickey walked past the street,” Fiona snorted thinking about the old lady who lived on the other side of the street. She literally limped inside and bolted the doors tightly behind her, scared of getting robbed, “That was funny.”

“Yeah, he’s still Mickey I knew and liked,” said the man softly, “But he’s just… free.”

Fiona gazed over Ian’s side profile: “I think he likes you, too Ian,” whispered Fiona, she put her hand around Ian and rested her head on his broad shoulder, “The way he looked at you when Finny was on your lap- that’s not how a friend stares. That’s how a man who’s deeply in love stares.”

Ian stayed silent for a moment. Trying to process her words. 

“You’re a Gallagher,” began the woman, ”A Gallagher keeps fighting and don’t stop until gets what it wants,” she looked in Ian’s emerald eyes, a serious veil fell over her face, “I am so fucking proud of you, Ian. I am so proud of how far you’ve got. And don’t tell me I wasn’t a good sister,” she jabbed him in the chest twice, “That’s my job here.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I hate not seeing you that often,” Ian scratched her scalp playfully, “All your crazy and bitchy parts.”

“Love you, too,” Fiona answered sarcastically, but truthfully. 

“Oh, there you are,” Jimmy’s head peaked out of the open door, looking for his wife, “I’ve been looking for ya. Let’s go, it’s time to blow the candles.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up,” Fiona hollered to get the attention from the guests watching TV, she just successfully put Finn to sleep, “I don’t really have that much space for all of you to sleep. So,” she clapped her hands to emphasize her words, “Carl, Lip, I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the couches here, while Debbie and the kids take the guest rooms.”

“Sure, no problem,” agreed Lip.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” shrugged Carl.

Then she turned to Ian and Mickey who were sitting close to each other on the two-seater sofa, their tights slightly brushing together. Even through the denim, Ian could feel the burning sensation of Mickey’s touch: “And for you guys, well, there are two options. One, you can sleep here on the ground. I’ll give you blankets and everything. Or two, you can take the keys to the lakehouse.”

“Lakehouse?” exclaimed Lip, “Since when do own two fucking houses?”

“Brought it last month,” answered Jimmy, “Wanted to have a place away from the city.”

“Where is it?” now it was Debbie's turn to ask.

“Twenty minutes away,” said Fiona, “In Newville.”

Ian looked at Mickey to sign the question: “What do you say?”

“Fuck that, I ain’t sleepin’ on the floor.”

“Okay, then,” Ian reached his hand toward his sister, “Gives the key.”

———

The other house Fiona and Jimmy owned was outside the crowded city in a smaller town around the lake. Only half an hour drive away. It was so quiet compering to never-ending running and buzzing in Chicago. Ian felt kind of strange to hear the low warbles of birds getting ready for the night in their nests on tree branches. Or the chirps of grasshoppers. Ian had never been this close to the beating heart of Mother Nature. It was fascinating how beautiful the darkness was — filled with beautiful secrets and mystery.   


The taller man took their backpacks; he swung Mickey's bag on his right shoulder. The men followed the rocky pathway, solar garden lights lighting up the night. It was a two-story log cabin with graceful garden and flower beds. The house was built by the shore of the lake.

Ian and Mickey, once the front door was unlocked, inspected the inside of the cabin. A small kitchen was connected with the living room, huge windows along the wall, displaying the spectacular view of the luminous water mirror, tiny dots of diamond stars, and rising moon reflecting on the calm surface. Everything was made of pinewood — the walls, the floor, the columns. There was a curved stairway leading up to the second floor. Upstairs was one master bedroom with a gigantic bed and cloudy duvet set and a bathroom with a ceramic bathroom in the middle of the room.   


The simplicity of the cabin made it the perfect escape for a married couple to get away from the mundane life. 

A run away to nature.

“Damn,” whistled Mickey, spinning around on the heels, “Jimmy must be fuckin’ loaded, man. Shit. I guess I should enroll in med school then.”

Ian simply nodded. Yes, this was beautiful. He was happy Fiona finally gets to enjoy life to its fullest. She fucking deserved it all.   


One day, maybe, one day, he will be able to afford things like this as well.

“So, I, uh, I can sleep on the couch downstairs,” coughed Ian, “You can take the bed.”

“Man, you drove for hours today,” protested the raven-head, “Maybe you should sleep here and fuckin’ relax.”

“Nah, I’m good.” 

No, he wasn’t. He didn’t want to sleep alone knowing Mickey had all of that bed to himself. That just gave him a feverish heartache. Ian wanted to sleep by his side. But that’s not what friends do. Friends who craved the intimate stokes and secret glances. Ian wouldn’t be able to control himself. He wouldn’t be able to sleep and not feel their damp skin brush together under the covers. 

“Let’s check out the outdoor?” Ian invited Mickey. 

“Yeah, let’s fuckin’ go.”

Before heading out to the backyard, Ian undressed his feet from socks and shoes. It was warm enough to walk barefoot outside. The red-head wanted to feel the crystal drops of dew and sand touch his skin.   


The man slowly strolled side by side, their shoulders bounced together, breathing in full lungs of the fresh and chilly midnight air. They discovered there was a pier going into the water. It slightly creaked from their weight. Ian sat down at the end of the pier. He lowered his toes to feel the water, but it was stiffening cold, he immediately pulled his leg back and kept it hovering over the reflecting surface. Mickey slid beside him. He put his palms behind his spine, leaned back, and looked up at the sky, lit up in millions of shining stars. Ian followed his movements and copied his pose. 

It was too dark for Mickey to see Ian’s speaking lips. And Ian was too idle to move his long fingers. 

But Ian was fine with that. He loved the tranquil silence. So he just kept checking out the beauty of the spring night. He listened to the shallow puffs leaving Mickey’s parted lips. He listened to waves crashing on the sandy shore on the beach. And he kept peeking at Mickey who’s black hair was painted in silver threads.   


Maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dangerous. But Ian is a Gallagher who will take the chance of a risk.

He slid his pinky finger by an inch closer. Slowly. So painfully slow. Until the soft pillow of the fingertip brushed against the side of Mickey’s palm. The older man’s breath hitched, Ian felt it. But he kept going. He kept sliding his fingers up until his hand covered Mickey’s.

Ian’s stare gazed over the horizon. Pretending not knowing, even if the adrenaline almost stopped his heart. Even if he was choking on air. He kept pretending. 

The ginger sensed Mickey’s eyes on him. He vowed he could feel the flaming glare wander over his body. 

“Ian,” a shaky voice pulled him out of the maelstrom.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut. Mickey’s voice sounded so distant. 

He'd overstepped.

Maybe if he pretended for a second longer, if he didn’t meet the disappointed pair of ocean-blue eyes drilling into his freckled face, Ian could feign as if nothing had happened. 

But that was a lie. A lie that’d stab him inside, pulling open bleeding scars. And only one man would save him.

Ian had overstepped.   


“Ian.”  


His green eyes found Mickey’s, There was no sign of anger in Mickey. And he didn’t move his hand under Ian’s. Not even a bit...  


…the very next moment Micky leaned closer to Ian. His warm breath tickled his face. The older man’s lips softly caressed Ian’s before locking them together in a kiss.

Ian froze. He almost exploded from the sensation and nerves in his veins. This wasn’t happening. Ian must be dreaming. This must be a sick dream, messing with his mind. But Mickey’s lips kept moving against Ian’s and his free hand pulled him closer by his waist.

As the younger man came back to consciousness, Ian kissed Mickey with everything he had. He slid both hands around Mickey’s neck, fingertips touching the soft strands of dark hair.

Ian sucked on Mickey’s lower lip, bringing soft moans out of his throat. That sound went straight to his crotch. He loved the taste of Mickey. He was sweet and rough. A taste that only belonged to Mickey. It was a taste that made Ian high. High with need. High with lust and desire

As he was growing harder with every passing minute, Ian opened Mickey’s burning hot lips to glide his tongue against Mickey’s. He needed Mickey. He fucking needed Mickey closer to him. With the thumbs, he lifted his face to deepen the kiss. Their noses kept bumping.

Mickey was amazing. Their lips perfectly moved together in one rhythm. As if made just for them. Mickey’s smaller body was pressed against Ian’s chest. They were so close. Ian couldn’t breathe anymore.

He pushed back, their foreheads still touching. The ginger’s face was flushed. And so was Mickey’s. As Ian opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a smile dance on Mickey’s glowing face. Mickey was smiling and so was Ian. They were giggling like kids. He couldn’t be happier. He was alive. _Alive and breathing._

Mickey just kissed him. 

They just kissed for the first time.  


And this was the first time Ian had really felt those butterflies of kissing. Because he kissed the man he loved so hard it hurt.

But Ian needed to feel Mickey again. And this time he kissed him with more passion. Ian’s hands wrapped around his body to raise them up. They were standing and kissing under the moonlight. Alone in the midnight darkness. Mickey was too short to reach Ian’s lips so he rose up on his tiptoes; one hand held the older man steadily around his middle. Ian’s hardening dick brushed against Mickey’s tight. The desperate sensation made Ian bite Mickey’s lip and pull it between his teeth. And they both growled how good it felt.   


God knows how long they’ve stood there sucking and licking their lips. But Ian still wanted more. He just needed more. So he moved his lips lower. He kissed Mickey’s chin, his jaw until his wet lips reached Mickey’s neck. The strong scent of him made Ian's knees go weak, he almost tumbled down. He littered smoothes under the dark-heads ears. Mickey tilted his head back in pleasure to give Ian more space to work on. Ian bit the thin skin, leaving a purple mark on his neck. Fuck. It looked hot. Beautiful. Ian left a print of himself on Mickey’s pale skin. Mickey was his. Only his.  


The older man was whimpering under Ian’s kisses and loving touches. Mickey was breaking apart. Ian loved how much control of Mickey’s body he had. He made Mickey vulnerable. Naked.

“Ian,” he whispered as Ian’s palms slid over Mickey’s chest, “Please.”

“Tell me what you need,” Ian murmured and kissed his jaw. Damn it. Mickey couldn’t hear him. It physically hurt to pull apart.

“Mick, tell me what you need,” he repeated.

“You, dumbass,” he snorted, “I fuckin’ need _you_.”

They were tearing off their clothes as they tried to climb up the stairs. It was impossible. But they were standing in front of the bed chest naked. Their breaths wheezing in nervousness. Ian was so fucking frightened from the man in front of him.

“Are you sure?” Ian asked again to be certain if this is what Mickey really wanted. This would be the moment everything changes between them. Once the fire started to spread, it was too late to stop it. No turning back.

“Fuck, yes.”

And the second the words fell off Mickey’s lips, Ian jerked forward to kiss Mickey. He slowly ran his hands across the velvety torso. Mickey was perfect. His stomach was strong. Not so defined as Ian’s but it was flawless. As his fingers kept tracing Mickey’s sides, he quivered like a leaf. A trail of goosebumps rising the light hairs on his skin. 

Mickey hooked his hands around Ian’s shoulders and slowly backed toward the bed. Once Mickey’s feet tripped, he fell down on the bouncy mattress. And Ian landed on the top of the delicate body, almost crashing it under the heavyweight.   


“Ouch,” whined Mickey, “You're fuckin’ heavy, man.”

“Sorry.”  


Mickey flipped Ian, changing their positions. The shorter man kissed him on his fluffy lips, they were so red. But Ian didn’t care. He could kiss Mickey forever from now on. Mickey lowered down, sucking a burning trail of pecks over Ian’s neck and sternum. He stopped there for a minute to nuzzle his nose against the fiery orange hair on Ian’s broad rib cage. The older man kept going lower till he arrived at Ian’s muscular abs. He took his sweet time to devour Ian’s body — every single inch. Mickey’s finger trailed over the curves of his belly. Then he licked them, leaving a wet path behind. He was breaking Ian apart, taking a piece by piece. Ian’s hands grabbed the sheets and his head sunk into the pillow. If touches like this made the man scream Mickey’s name out loud, how would it feel to be inside him?  


The raven-head moved lower, dangerously close to Ian’s pants. It made Ian squirm. Mickey grinned at the impatient man underneath him. His fingers leisurely unhooked the button of his jeans and tucked them over his round butt, tights, and legs until they were laying somewhere on the ground. He was now in his black underwear pitched into a tent. Ian popped on his elbows to see what Mickey had planned to do. There was a greedy animal woken in Mickey’s soul. The older man took the rubbery waist of Ian’s boxers into his teeth and slowly pulled them down when Ian’s hard cock sprung free.  


“Fuck,” Mickey licked his lips.

Ian tapped on the other man’s shoulder to get his attention: “Like what you see, huh?”

“Shut up,” his stare was back on completely naked Ian, laying on the bed. Ready for whatever Mickey wanted to do. He was so turned up it ached.  


Mickey licked his rock-hard dick just to get the taste of him. Fuck. That was too much. Ian had to breathe to calm down. It would be so fucking embarrassing if he came right at this moment. 

But then Mickey’s lips wrapped around his nine inches, making it disappear into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Mick.”

He was so good. Even if Mickey gaged a few times from taking Ian’s shaft too deep, Mickey was incredible. His freakishly small hands scratched Ian’s hairy chest, leaving tiny red scratch trails from his nails. Ian was flying through the heavenly clouds of pleasure. As if sensing Ian’s highs from the trembling body, Mickey crawled back to the ginger’s lips and kissed him, letting him taste himself in Mickey’s mouth.

“Fuck me, Ian,” Mickey roared in Ian’s ear. The hair on the back of his neck rose up from the aroused tone in his voice.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Ian manhandled Mickey so he was back on top of him. Mickey was so beautiful. His body was a mess. Drops of sweats forming on the forehead around the hairline and temples, making his skin glow in moist. Just like Ian’s. The redhead sneaked a glance at Mickey’s crotch. Even through the layers of clothes, he could see how painfully hard he was. So Ian ripped off the last pieces of clothing to free Mickey as well. 

Holy shit. Mickey was naked. All the goods in front of Ian’s eyes, making him carve to touch him. And Mickey’s cock. It was so dazzling. He had gotten bigger and wider since the last time Ian saw it. Black pubic hair around the base of his dick. Ian dreamed to feel them again his fingers. But Mickey was leaking, a white pearl drop sliding down the plump skin. Ian had to take care of his man.

The ginger reached over the bed to find his pants and a wallet. There should be a pack of lube and a condom. 

“Fuuck,” Ian moaned loudly in disillusionment. He only had a tin foil pack of lube. A lube. An no fucking condom. Just when he needed it the most. 

“What is it,” began Mickey after feeling the vibrations coming from Ian’s, “Came already?”

“No, fuck,” deflated the ginger, “I don’t have a condom, just lube.”

Mickey’s facial expression made him laugh out loud. It was clearly interpreted as _‘how can a fuckin’ gay dude not have a spare condom in his wallet_.

“I fucking didn’t pack a box of condoms in my bag, Mick,” said Ian, “Didn’t think I’d fuck you tonight.”

After a moment of frustration and silence, Mickey whispered: “I’m clean. Did a test a while ago and, uh, I haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?”

“It’s nothing, Gallagher.”

Mickey looked ashamed of something. But what? 

“Mickey, talk to me,” reassured Ian in a soft voice, he cupped Mickey's face with his warm hand, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I haven’t fucked anyone in years, Ian.”

“But your mouth told me something else,” teased the younger man.

“Oh, fuck you, man.”

“Hey, I’m clear, too,” he said quickly. 

“Cool,”

“So are you okay with, you know,” stumbled the nervous Ian, “Okay with us having sex without a condom?”

The shorter man’s breath hitched of thought of feeling the skin to skin contact.

“Yeah, Ian,” whined Mickey, “Just hurry the fuck up, I’m gettin’ soft.”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that,” said Ian in a sultry voice.

Ian kissed Mickey while his fingers opened the pack of lube. He gelled his fingers slick to prepare Mickey all nice and open. Ian didn’t want to hurt him, especially when the other man hadn’t had sex in a while. Ian’s gonna take care of him. Love him real good.

The ginger stretched open Mickey’s tight hole with one, then two, and — when Mickey was ready — with three fingers. He was whimpering and moaning. Ian felt how his short body shook with pleasure. All the low and sexy sounds leaving his parted lips, made Ian leak even more. They’re not gonna last long. Both of them.

Ian lubed his hard cock and spread open Mickey’s hairy legs a bit wider to slowly slid the tip of his dick into Mickey’s opening. The sensation was too strong. Ian bit his lip and closed his eyes to avoid the sight of naked Mickey underneath him. He pushed in slowly. Inch by inch. Fuck, Mickey was so tight.

“You alright?” Ian said when their eyes connected.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey breathed out, “Keep goin’.”

He pushed in the last inches until their groins touched. Ian was in ecstasy. Shit. This was the best feeling, he felt like a teenage virgin all over again; like the day Ian fucked Mickey for the first time. He loved how close they were. His naughty dreams, dreams that woke him up in the puddle of dried cum, finally came alive. They were having s sweet and loving sex.

Ian leaned in to smack their lips together. The redhead started to pick a thrusting pace. He was slow and gentle. But the need of getting off was too heavy and he couldn’t control himself. They didn’t kiss anymore because of how hard they were breathing. Ian stared at Mickey’s handsome face, his eyes rolled up and mouth opened in ‘o’ shape, leaving quiet ‘uh’ sounds every time Ian hit his prostate. Ian buried his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck and suck on the sweaty skin — tasting and devouring him. 

“Ian,” moaned Mickey, filling the room with his voice, “Fuckin’ harder. Please…”

And Ian did as he was demanded. He pulled out and pushed back in with hard and good thrusts to please Mickey the right way. Fuck, this was too much. Ian couldn’t hold the burning orgasm away. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s back to pull him closer to Ian’s magical dick. He draped his hand's around Ian’s sweaty shoulder and kissed him hard. 

“I’m so fuckin’ close,” moaned Mickey in Ian’s damp hair, “Fuck.”

“Me, too.” 

Ian took Mickey’s wet cock in his hand and jerked it in sync with the fast thrusts; a warm pre-come rolled down his hand onto Micky’s stomach, mixing together with both of their sweats. And at the same moment, Ian came hard inside Mickey with a loud cry. He kept fucking Mickey, wet noises coming from his thrusts. He kept fucking Mickey closer to the oblivion.

“Shiit. Fuuck,” Mickey bit into Ian’s smooth shoulder painfully as the waves of orgasm filled his bones. 

They were spent. Empty. That deep scratch inside is finally satisfied.

Fuck.

Ian flopped on top of Mickey, still balls deep inside him. They were disgusting — Mickey’s come spread over their tummies and pubes, drying together as one. Ian was too damn high, too tired to get up and wet his T-shirt to wash their bodies, He didn’t want to leave Mickey’s side not even for a second. 

“Ugh,” grunted the crushed man under Ian’s weight, “Get off, I can’t breathe, you giant dork.”

And as told, the redhead pulled out the soft cock of Mickey’s loose hole. But his eyes couldn’t leave the sight of Ian’s white cum slowly dropping out of his ass. It was so fucking hot. He felt that electric tingle in his lower abdomen, his dick started to rise again in interest. 

Ian’s fingers touched Mickey’s cheeks to swipe across his opening to get the come on his hand. It was filthy as fuck, but Ian wants to feel it and maybe even tase it. 

But instead, he curled against Mickey’s side, tied their legs together, and put the palm on Mickey’s beating heart, feeling how slowly it pulsed. He was tired, the ginger saw how Mickey’s blue eyes slowly drifted to sleep. The shadow of his light eyelashes falling over his flushed cheeks.

“Where are you goin’?” asked Mickey, his voice husky and exhausted.

“Want to clean us up a bit.”

“Don’t,” Mickey caressed Ian’s stubbly cheek and leaned in for his lips to kiss him so softly. Almost like a feather brushing against his raw skin.

So Ian pulled the blanked over their naked, smelly, sleepy bodies. Switched off the bedside lamp, turning the room into pitch-black darkness. And pulled Mickey’s back against his chest. Ian hugged his dangly arm around the older man, pulling him tighter into his skin.

He closed his eyes and listened to Mickey’s shallow puffs, lulling him into the syrup sweet dreams. 

Mickey took Ian’s palm into his hand and laced their fingers together. The dark-head kissed Ian’s hand and reset the tangled palms on his pillow.

No more sleeping alone in his bed.

No more tears of desperate hunger for Mickey’s touch and smile.

Mickey was his.

Ian finally got his Mickey back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading again! I hope you enjoyed it! :)
> 
> Feel free to leave thoughts in comments. Only if you want to.
> 
> P.S. Shameless is ending and I'm really fucking sad ;(


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